


Twisted Up (in My Mind)

by svtrighthere



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Comedy, Developing Relationship, Football | Soccer, Friends to Enemies to Lovers, Humor, M/M, Minor Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups/Yoon Jeonghan, Minor Kwon Soonyoung | Hoshi/Lee Jihoon | Woozi, Romance, Slow Burn, angry seungkwan, endearing but not pushover hansol, seungkwan is the epitome of angry chaotic gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:22:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 38,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22429312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/svtrighthere/pseuds/svtrighthere
Summary: It’s biology, they say. It’s nature. That’s how you’re born, sweetie, it’s in your blood. DNA, we call it.-or in which Seungkwan is irrefutably a bit of an asshole.
Relationships: Boo Seungkwan/Chwe Hansol | Vernon
Comments: 58
Kudos: 291





	1. Chapter 1

Blood.  
  
He’s been raised thinking that it’s all in the blood.  
  
It’s a dogma. A widely accepted belief supported by every branch of science, an entwined pack of principles that every good parent, educator or professor is obliged to teach from the very beginning of childhood, hence it simply makes sense that their entire society ends up being molded by it, from deeply within its own very core, and shaped in all areas of competence.  
  
It’s biology, they say. It’s nature. That’s how you’re born, sweetie, it’s in your blood. DNA, we call it.  
  
Seungkwan never dared doubt it, not one time, and he never answered back to anyone who ever cared explaining it to him. He doesn’t precisely question things, nor the hidden meanings behind them, but he simply can’t help looking – peeking, more likely, and most of the times, when nobody’s looking, slightly _sniffing_ – at the whole picture.  
  
By the time he turns six, he knows that he is _something_. It’s too early to tell, because nothing’s ever clearly determined before the age of puberty, but some days, much more than others, he can’t help but feel like a cocoon; a tight, small cocoon enveloping a secret code of DNA that’s just waiting the first rush of hormones to disclose itself, spreading free into the warm light of day.  
  
Oh, sure, everybody wants to know. Everybody _always_ wants to know what you are when you’re but a child, from the little toddler that can barely stand up on his own and tries to swallow every single small and possibly deadly object to the little prankster that doesn’t care about roles, duties, hierarchy, or any of that shit. Everybody wants to stop referring to you as purely a blank canvas, a dubious, obscure human being that doesn’t have a defined label yet, because everybody wants to finally put you in your rightful, well-deserved place. Starting from your own parents. Many think that they can determinate what the baby is from the constellations in the sky at the moment of birth, some put their trust into oracles, others decide to let the elders figure it all out. Well, there are some – an incredibly small minority, actually – who don’t even give a fuck about all of this nonsense, but it’s definitely not Seungkwan’s case.  
  
He’s not born with a big name on his tiny shoulders and not one of his many relatives is an important figure around society, but he’s still brought in front of his granduncle the day of his first birthday. At that time, the ninety-one years old little brother of his grandfather was the only alpha of their strictly betas and omegas family, thus the only one who could dare make any assumption about his inner nature in such a young age.

Lifted up in the old man’s embrace, who gently tried to lull him no matter how much he wiggled and struggled, screaming for freedom, he cried out in discomfort till there was no other thing left but set him free. They didn’t come to any conclusion, obviously. The man was too old to catch a scent and Seungkwan was too young to release anything but the sharp smell of drool and pee, but at least it was a pleasant family reunion.  
  
It’s the constant, methodical incoming of forecasts like that, smothering him year after year, that pushes Seungkwan to the point where he starts to feel some kind of genuine interest in the whole matter.

* * *

  
The first time he clearly sees his own blood, he’s nine years old, reckless and hurt like he’s never been before, and he’s shaking like a leaf. There’s ice on his nose, held in place by his math teacher, but the blood keeps on dripping in the sink of the bathroom as he bites back bitter tears of anger and frustration. He looks down at it, at the mess he has done, crimson flowers blossoming on the white surface before being washed away by the running cold water, and he asks himself if everything that he really is has already been written, if it’s already been decided from the very start, if it’s an unbreakable code encrypted in every cell of his body, a timing bomb whereof countdown has been ticking from the day he was born. He wonders if the kid that has just punched and kicked him that hard was in fact telling the truth, if he’s a spineless omega like half of his family, destined to never find a mate and die alone because he’s a fat, ugly, whiny little bitch. If he really is, at least he’s happy that he has shown him how hard and good a poor omega like him can _bite_.  
  
As if he wants a mate, anyway. All Seungkwan cares about at the moment is becoming an astronaut, and fuck the rest.

* * *

  
He doesn’t long for proper, actual knowledge. He doesn’t care about it, sometimes not at all, and for a brief period of time he even tries to ward off any thought that concerns the aforementioned topic. Day by day, he slowly begins chasing away all the questions with uncaring shrugs and doors slammed on everyone’s face, until he’s sulking so hard that he’s scaring even his poor little sister and his father decides to break the ice on his behalf.  
  
“You don’t have to be afraid about it,” he comes to him one afternoon, sitting cross-legged on the grass of the backyard as Seungkwan pulls out every daisy close at hand. “Don’t you want to be powerful and important like our president, Seungkwan?”  
  
“… what’s with our president?” he glooms.  
  
“She’s an omega, you know. She’s an omega, and she rules the entire nation.”  
  
Seungkwan looks up at him, frowning, this time even more deeply. “That doesn’t make any sense. Aren’t omegas supposed to be submissive?” he asks, perplexed.  
  
“Seungkwan, does your entire family look submissive in any way?” he throws the question back to him, smile brightening his mature features with a familiar warmth. “I’m an omega myself. If you’ve ever seen me being submissive with anybody, you can tell me.”  
  
“That’s because there’s not even a single alpha left in our family to put you in your place, dad.”  
  
“Our neighbor, Mr. Lee, is an alpha,” he adds immediately. “And a very impressive one, if you ask me. But guess who won the argument about the fence, yesterday?”  
  
Seungkwan rolls his eyes with a loud huff, refusing to believe that his dad is actually trying to prove something with such a weak argument. “Dad… it’s a stupid fence. Please…” he whines.  
  
“But it’s the truth. Alphas are just really good at barking orders, and that’s it. Most of the times they’re noisy, annoying and particularly stupid. They need to know their own place too.”  
  
“… well at least that’s better than being a whiny, ugly little bitch,” he mutters, words falling slowly into a resentful silence.  
  
“Is this what that kid said to you? That you’re a whiny, ugly little bitch? That you’re an omega?”  
  
Seungkwan tears up the daisies that he has collected, a low growl rumbling in his chest, but he doesn’t answer.  
  
“You can tell me, Seungkwan. I’m here for you.”  
  
“… he said that I’m fat,” he murmurs in the end, forcing the voice out of his tight, clenched throat. “He said that I won’t ever find a mate because I’m like this. He said that I’m an omega, and that I have no value for that.”  
  
A big and warm hand suddenly ruffles his short hair.  
  
“What a rude, _rude_ kid,” his father sighs, hand now patting lightly, gently, his son’s head. “If it can be of any consolation to you, I can say that it really sounds like he’s going to be all over omegas when he grows up. And I also think he doesn’t know the meaning of at least half of the things he said to you. Now… we can’t do anything about those chubby cheeks of yours, can we? I’m pretty sure we can do something for your little nose, though, just in case you end up fighting again.”  
  
“What do you mean?” he glances up at him, holding back a perplexed pout.  
  
“… do you want to learn some taekwondo, Seungkwan?”

* * *

  
The second time he sees his own blood, barely four months later, it’s the one he has just spat on the floor of the gym.  
  
It’s not as painful as the previous time, and definitely not that demeaning, because it’s happened all thanks to a perfectly executed jump reverse hook kick that landed on his face by complete accident, and not a brutal fistfight between children. Nonetheless, it was pretty much not supposed to happen anyway, mostly because they didn’t even practice that kick yet and because in that moment all the novices were only supposed to be stretching, but as Seungkwan kneels on the floor with blood dripping from his cut upper lip he feels fucking _amazing_.  
  
That’s it, the power. A brutal force free from anger, hatred and bloodlust, a shock wave so powerful that made all of his bones tremble. Seungkwan can’t properly tell if he feels surprisingly dominated, it’s a sensation so new and unclear that he still needs to figure it out. All he knows is that, regardless of the cut, the pain and the dizziness that’s making his head spin, he can’t hold back a smile.  
  
It hurts, but he wants it too. That’s why, after being carefully grabbed to the infirmary and stuffed with more ice, bandages and disinfectant, he steps back into the gym to reach the corner where the culprit is sitting all alone, mortified, and most definitely grounded for the entire course of the lesson.  
  
“That was an awesome kick,” he greets him, speaking slowly but frankly.  
  
_Please_.  
  
“I- I felt so bad, I really didn’t want to hit you!” the little boy rambles, eyes now shining full of sorrow and regret. “I promise! It’s true!”  
  
“It’s ok,” Seungkwan sits down next to him. “I shouldn’t have been that close to you to begin with. I’m Seungkwan, by the way.”  
  
“M-Minhyuk,” he immediately gets a hand to shake. It’s small, childlike, and it trembles lightly against his sweaty palm, but it still tries to give a sense of firmness with its strong grip. “Maybe I’m mistaken but… I think we go to the same school, yeah? Aren’t you in section B, Seungkwan? The one with the windows decorated with snowmen?”  
  
He definitely shouldn’t smile, now, but he just can’t help it.  
  
_Please_.  
  
He’s shivering.  
  
_Kick me more._  
  


* * *

  
The third time it’s just him, alone, and no flying kicks falling from the sky or dumb assholes who want to break his ribs to show how manly and dominant they are. There’s only him on his roller skates, his sister’s doll abandoned on the floor, dad’s bicycle right in the way and no kneepads on ready to save his unsteady legs. When he trips over the back wheel of the bicycle and tumbles on the floor of the garage, tugging with him everything that’s in the way before disappearing under a pile of odds and ends, the crash is so loud that even Mr. Lee appears on the front door in fear that something really bad might have happened.  
  
What he gets as a reward are a couple of stitches on his left leg, a dislocated wrist, various bruises and a long hiatus from his taekwondo lessons, but nothing major. He’s upset only because he can’t reach far enough down his legs, and therefore he can’t lick his own wounds.  
  
It’s the beginning of the monsoon season, early July, and he has plenty of time to stay at home, heal and die of a severe case of boredom. Then the invitation from his second grade cousins drops in their postbox as a true blessing, a fervent prayer finally answered after too many long days of agony, and he feels free once again. It’s a one week trip, but it’s definitely a rare occasion that hasn’t been occurring for a very long time by now, so even if Seungkwan is not in the best condition to properly enjoy the beauty of the country with long, breathless runs through the fields, he’s more than happy to get out of town for a little while.  
  
His cousins are both older than him, two friendly beta girls of fourteen and seventeen years old respectively, and since Seungkwan is accustomed to treating females nicely thanks to the endless presence of his little sister by his side, he gets along with them very well. He likes the company, the food, the house – that big, country house which belonged to his granduncle, the alpha –, the various trips in the almost untouched wilderness and the afternoon baths into the streams that pour from the hills.  
  
It rains, obviously. Despite being extremely, almost unbearably hot, the heavy air of summer is overfilled and saturated with water, and sometimes there’s nothing to do but to stay at home, in shelter of the wooden veranda, trying to pass some time with conversations, books and card games as the sky floods the landscape into a curtain of liquid, fading colors.  
  
Seungkwan learns to love the silence of the night, especially when it doesn’t rain that heavily. The low croaking coming from the pond of the garden and the chirping of crickets echoing from the dark surroundings are a shooting symphony that he’s not used to appreciate in the crowded streets of Seoul. He stays up late for that, many nights in a row, just to sit on the floor of the veranda and peer into the shadows.  
  
It’s a clear, peaceful night of full moon when he lays on the belly on his usual spot, right by the side of the pond, to gaze at the multitude of stars reflecting on the black and stagnant surface of the water. Droplets of the rain that drenched the country a couple of hours ago are still dripping from the drainpipe in a peacefully slow rhythm, lulling his restless thoughts, as the wet vegetation of the garden breathes all around him, silent but alive, full of subtle rustles in the shrouding shadows, cracklings and murmurs. The only thing that ruins the moment is the stinging pain on his right knee, at one point so unbearable that he has to stand up and sit properly, to check it in case of infection. That afternoon he accidentally broke the scab of one of the many wounds he caused himself back at their garage, too busy running from his cousins, along the stream, to notice where to place his bare feet without falling on the sturdy ground, and now the blood is starting to coagulate again on his broken skin. He bends the leg as he tries to bring the knee as close to the chest as possible, and he sniffs the wound with meticulous attention, searching for the sharp smell of impurity. Thankfully, he can perceive nothing but blood.  
  
To Seungkwan blood is stinging, but sweet. If it wasn’t for the fact that it’s always indivisibly associated with pain, he would even dare finding it _delicious_. With the slow passing of seasons, he’s learnt how to lick his wounds to speed up the healing process, and by now he definitely prefers his own saliva to any kind of unnecessary medication.  
  
_So wild_ , his sister remarks every time she finds him sucking on an open cut or a light bruise.  
  
Seungkwan rests his chin on the bent knee, sighing heavily into the humming silence that surrounds him before glancing up at the white, bright full moon that caresses the garden with its feeble luminescence, a soft glow entwined with darkness itself. There are fireflies dancing between the bushes on the other side of the pond, gleaming lights chasing one another, and he thinks that this could be the prettiest night he has ever seen in his entire, short life, if only his sister wasn’t screaming from the other side of the house because she’s apparently old enough to stay awake and not go to bed at all.  
  
It’s in this moment, hand wrapped around the soft flesh of his leg to protect the fresh wound, that his peaceful stream of thoughts leads him back to the old, still unanswered and lately more than familiar question. It’s a recurring thought, a companion that fills his nights with doubts and sighs. And it’s not like he wants to get over with it, solve it once and for all and know what his destiny is going to be, but it’s something that he wish he could at least understand a little better.

So he sniffs his own blood with sharper attention, one more time. He knows that he’s not going to get anything out of it, but he still asks himself how much more is going to take to get to that stage of life wherein his singular scent can be caught by somebody else, even if he hasn’t hit puberty. Still too soon for that, his mind tells him, tired and rational. Childhood isn’t over yet. It’s fading away, undoubtedly, setting along the sun with every day passing by, but it’s still there, all over him, and it veils his blood into a thick nothingness that can’t be undone by anybody, not even the strongest alpha around.  
  
Dominance. Subordination. Submission.  
  
He gazes down at the pond filled with twinkling stars and he wonders which one is going to be for him, what really lays beneath his skin. If the cocoon that wraps his soul has any tiny, little crack, maybe he could even catch a glint of it in his own reflection. Nonetheless, when he focuses on the shining black surface of the water, he sees nothing but two floating, full, golden moons. It’s the amber reflection of his glowing eyes, set on fire by the opalescent light of the night, and the only visible feature of his round and dark face that looks back at him from that perfect mirror.  
  
For some seconds, his howl reverberates in the unmoving, wet surroundings.  
  
“Hey, hey, wolfie!” he’s immediately stopped by a cheerful call. “What are you doing outside? Calling your imaginary pack?”  
  
His cousin, the older one, is always a bit too loud during her entrances, but he’s gotten used to that.  
  
“… just watching the full moon,” he answers, feet now dangling from the wooden floor.  
  
“Haven’t I told you already the tale of the alpha ghost that hunts these lands? You shouldn’t howl like that in a night of full moon, you could catch his attention.”  
  
“Haven’t I told you already that I don’t believe in ghosts?” he sneers.  
  
She sits next to him, all cunning smile and messy, uncombed hair. “Well I’m pretty sure that any alpha around here would answer to the call of such a little, cute and defenseless omega,” she replies with her largest smile.  
  
Sure.  
  
“I’m not an omega,” he retorts with conviction.  
  
“Oh _hell_ , you are,” and she laughs out loud at his stubbornness. “You are _so_ an omega, Seungkwan.”  
  
“You can’t tell yet. Nobody can,” he insists. “And for what you know, I could even be an alpha.”  
  
“Yeah, of course, in your frustrated wet omega dreams maybe.”  
  
“Wet?” he blinks, perplexed.  
  
“Oh, you’ll know.”  
  
“Why are you even so sure that I’m an omega? It’s not like you can smell it or whatever.”  
  
“Because it suits you, Seungkwannie.”  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
“I’m just saying that with a face like that, one day you’ll be a perfect bottom bitch.”  
  
Seungkwan wants to go home.

* * *

He gets it.  
  
He finally gets it, but with four years of delay. And what’s worse is that it’s not even in regard to his own life.  
  
He gets it when his friend, who lives right on the other side of the fence, goes into heat for the very first time, so abruptly and without any kind of previous, little, infinitesimal warning that the whole neighborhood is left shocked, stunned, completely speechless for the rest of the month. Well… not that much speechless at all, in the end, because… yes. Oh, yes.

They speak. They all speak about it, way too much. They speak about it not because it’s a cute, innocent omega who’s finally hit that important stage of life in which he loses all kind of self-control, dignity or restraint, but because it’s Mr. Lee’s _son_ , his second male son, brother of an already established and strong alpha, and if there’s one thing that they all know in their neighborhood is that not a single omega has been born in the Do’s family for over a century. Betas. All betas and many, _many_ powerful alphas, more than anyone could ever dream of. But not an omega. Not even one, once, by mistake.  
  
Seungkwan isn’t surprised by the whole deal per se, mostly not by the fact that it occurs to such a little guy too. When it happens, the boy is barely twelve years old, the same age when his sister got her first period and revealed to be a fearless, stubborn beta, but it’s still considered pretty normal and surprisingly average in their society.

The first years of heat cycles and menstruations are not that much of a big deal, anyway, because the person is still biologically living the last afterglows of childhood and it’s not that affected by all those rushing surges of hormones. But of course, it gets worse. It can only get worse with every year passing by, with growing up, developing and getting needy. It’s a one-way trip from which nobody comes back, ever. It’s life, and it’s fine that way.  
  
Moonbin says that _it’s not fucking fine at all_ , when they end up chatting about it one month later in Seungkwan’s room. He says that he doesn’t want to feel flaming hot ever again, and especially not for glancing by mistake at a dumb ad about male underwear.  
  
“You know what’s the worst thing about this?” he hears him screaming against the pillow. He’ll probably need to change the bed sheets, he doesn’t want them to reek of whiny, crying omega. “It’s that one day I was playing videogames with the girl I have a crush on since kindergarten and the next I was all hot and wet and fucking sticky and gay.”  
  
Seungkwan feels like snorting at those words, but he tries his best to shut up and listen.  
  
“I hate it. _I hate it_. It’s horrible,” and so Moonbin goes on with his rant, this time as he gets up from the bed to massage his own temples. He has already tried to keep calm and collected and not scream about it, apparently, but he just can’t.  
  
“I don’t think you can… _turn_ , you know, gay when you’re in heat,” Seungkwan mutters to himself, and he looks down at the floor. “I think you were gay to begin with, or at least bi… and you just never realized because you were never… well… turned on by anything…?”  
  
The look that Moonbin gives him is _deadly_.  
  
“Do you know that there are plenty of heterosexual _male_ omegas out there?” he hisses, venomous and cold. “Do you know that it’s not required for a male to be fucking gay in order to be an omega? It’s not that wanting to get on all fours in front of a guy and wanting to get off are two intertwined things. I could be an omega and hook up with an alpha girl, and that would be perfectly fine.”  
  
“… except that you got into heat because of a half-naked picture of a guy in the first place, and not because your crush showed you her pink panties,” he tries to remember him as gently as possible, without wanting to hurt his already clearly devastated feelings. “I think you simply need to… well, process what’s happening to you and your body. You’re growing up. Take some time to get to know yourself a little better.”  
  
Moonbin looks at him as if he wants to skin him alive. It’s just getting worse, apparently.  
  
“… get to know myself a little better?” he repeats. “ _Me?!_ Then, what about _you_?”  
  
“… what about me?” Seungkwan frowns a little. “I don’t know. I think both boys and girls are fine, but-”  
  
“I mean, when are you going into heat?”  
  
Oh.  
  
_Yeah._  
  
“Well, that’s-”  
  
“You were the one supposed to go into heat _first!_ ” Moonbin barks, infuriated, with angry impatience. “You were the one supposed to experience this before me, so that you could give me, I don’t know, _advices_ about it. I live in a fucking alpha-is-god family and the only solution my parents come up with about my condition is locking me up in my room until everything goes away. You’re the only person I could have talked about this with, in case I didn’t end up being an alpha like my brother, and now that I know for sure that I’m at the bottom pit of society I don’t have anyone to come rescue me from complete insanity.”  
  
“Well… did you know that our president is an omega?” he finds himself speaking familiar words.  
  
“ _Come on_ , you know what I’m talking about!”  
  
Seungkwan wonders if the heat burnt his friend’s brain too along the way.  
  
“… I can… I can call my dad and let him talk to you,” he points the thumb towards the door. “In case you need an omega-omega chat about life and… bees… or birds…”  
  
“Thank you but _fuck you_ ,” Moonbin growls at him and Seungkwan feels like he deserves it a little.  
  
“Look, it’s not like I can do anything about it,” he shrugs without care. “I guess I’m a late bloomer. I just… there’s no way anyone can trigger his own puberty. It’ll happen. And I think it’ll happen pretty soon too, unless I’ve got some kind of congenital reproductive disorder nobody told me about.”  
  
It’s nothing but the truth. He’s been expecting it for quite some time by now, the surging heat spreading from the lowest depths of his stomach, at least ever since Minhyuk and half of his class started smelling so young, fresh and disgustingly hormonal. He has talked about it with his parents, explaining them how sometimes he felt these sudden waves of strong, appealing, almost nauseating and most of all confusing scents crashing all over him, from every direction, and they told him that it was simply a sign of development, a really good sign indeed, a hint that his time was finally going to come.  
  
The sense of smell’s one of the first changes that happen during puberty and it differs for everyone, stronger or weaker for every category, depending just on the personal heredity of genes. The Do’s family has always been, for example, the perfect case of a bunch of strong, powerful alphas with one of the weakest olfaction around and, on that matter, many times instance of extreme hilarity for who, like Seungkwan’s father, could smell almost the whole neighborhood.  
  
And still, it’s nothing special at all. It doesn’t change a thing, because being able to smell doesn’t imply that someone is also able to sense, distinguish, or recognize. As a fully developed omega with a sharp sense of smell, Seungkwan wouldn’t still be able to walk around the streets and say with certainty who, among the strangers, was a beta, an omega or an alpha.

Well, he would notice the latter simply by going accidentally into heat and becoming agonizingly horny and needy for a good, hard fuck, but these are things that Seungkwan is still way too damn far from feeling – or even wanting to feel – right now. He can’t sense Moonbin. He can’t just sit next to him and sniff his skin and recognize what he is. All he can tell right now, is that his friend still smells of hormones, especially after that rough first heat cycle, and that it kind of stinks. In a good way, maybe. He doesn’t know, because it’s too raw and confusing.  
  
“… and everybody – I mean, _everybody_ – is talking about me, now.”  
  
Yes. If there’s one cool thing about not being fully developed yet, is that you know it anyway. You end up knowing, one way or the other, through confessions, rumors or friendly chats. Everyone among family, relatives, friends or neighbors knows what you are, when you finally show a sign of your nature, because it’s an undying instinct shared by the whole humanity. Everyone, always, wants to know. Everyone wants to know you, understand you and put you in your rightful place, in the category wherein you belong, to put everything in order with its own respectful label.  
  
“It’s like I _failed_ them, you understand? My father hasn’t even spoken to me about it, not one fucking time!”  
  
That’s also his biggest problem. Seungkwan could even try to hide his nature once it surfaces and take control over him, but in a matter of minutes his mother would have already called every single friend to tell them what a wonderful, beautiful, precious, irresistible cute omega he is. Just like what happened to his little sister, the day she was finally doomed with womanhood. He’s not ready for it, not yet.  
  
“… and my brother? We always got along so well, and now that I became _this_ he’s mocking me so much I almost wanna kill him!”  
  
“Moonbin…” he then sighs, tired, as his eyes roll towards the ceiling. He pities him, somehow. “You need to give your family some time, ok? Dude, you’re a phenomenon. You’re the first omega living between those walls since… I guess, forever. They don’t know what to tell you because they’re not used to having one of your kind around, among them. It’s ok. They’ll learn. Give them time.”  
  
“… learn? And what will they learn?” he bursts out in a soulless laugh. “That sooner or later they’ll find me jerking off to some gay porn for almost a month when they’ve always thought that I was going to marry a pretty, refined lady that could bear my alpha children?”  
  
“Do you… already feel like jerking off?” Seungkwan eyes widen at those words.  
  
Too much information. Too soon. Bad. _Very bad._  
  
A deep shade of red explodes on Moonbin’s cheeks. "I- I don’t know!” he retorts immediately, pushing away that argument with a nervous, sharp wave of the hand. “How do I know?! _Why would I even know if I didn’t-_ did- did you do it already?”  
  
It’s now Seungkwan’s turn to blush like someone has set his skin on fire, and he hates it. “Excuse me, I’m turning fourteen in a week. Are you really asking me this question?” he almost chokes on his chewing gum, eyes fixed on the opposite direction.  
  
“… and how the hell haven’t you been in heat yet, then?!” Moonbin looks even more dumbstruck and stunned than before.  
  
“Well, I- _I don’t know!_ ” Seungkwan almost cries out in frustration, hiding behind the palm of his hands. “How the hell am I supposed to know! I have no idea how I should feel like, I could have even been in heat without knowing! I- I- maybe I won’t ever go into heat! Maybe I’m a _beta_!”  
  
“Oh, no,” this time Moonbin shakes his head with firm conviction. “No. No, Seungkwan, trust me. No. When it happens, _you know_. It’s impossible not to know.”  
  
“… like menstrual pain, said my best friend. You know you have it.”  
  
Just a couple of casual, uncaring words, and both Moonbin and Seungkwan are jumping out of their skin, startled and utterly terrified by a presence that was not supposed to be there, not at all.  
  
“You-” Seungkwan immediately turns around, more than ready to jump on his feet, push her away and shut the door on her face.  
  
“I’m sorry, _I’m sorry!_ ” his sister pleads, somehow looking much more amused than mortified. “I was just passing by, but I couldn’t help hearing every-”  
  
“Can’t you just go away?!” he shouts back, anger and embarrassment rushing through his head to overheat his already boiling brain. At least he can’t notice how Moonbin tries to smother himself against the pillow for the freaking umpteenth time. “Go the fuck away, or I’m calling mom!”  
  
“I heard you talking about heat cycles, ok?” she insists, hand pressed against the door to keep it open despite Seungkwan’s hard pushes. “I know a lot about it, I’ve done my researches!”  
  
“Oh god, I swear, _I’m calling mom-_ ”  
  
“Ok, ok, fine, I’m going! Just let me- let me tell you one thing, brother. Heat cycles are for omegas what menstruations are for girl betas. It’s a thing. They all tend to synchronize.”  
  
“That’s a fucking lie and you know it!”  
  
“With all those hormones in the air? Really? Just wait until you get it too, you’re gonna regret being born.”

* * *

  
Seungkwan doesn’t ever regret being born, but from that day onwards he kind of live in fear of everything.  
  
And by everything he means human contact. Of _any_ kind.  
  
Hyperaware, anxious and vigilant as he’s never been before, he spends either time with his closest and most trusted friends or completely alone, locked up in his own room, in the silent company of books, snacks and videogames. He gains weight too, not much but enough to scare away his taekwondo opponents during practice and cease every damn tease that ever ruined his life at school, and by the time he turns fifteen he’s become so violent around others that rumor has it he’s actually a serial killer. It’s not that Seungkwan has a problem with violence itself. He’s calm, cold and collect for the most part of the day, a diligent student who loves doing his work at the best of his abilities.

He simply doesn’t react that well when strangers try to break into his untouchable bubble, and sometimes he decides to shows it with unexpected and pretty much deadly jump reverse hook kicks. Minhyuk laughs out loud, even from the other side of the hallway, but none of his teachers is exactly entertained by any of this crap. It gets bad, and very soon too, to the point where even his parents decide to stop him from taking further taekwondo classes. Apparently, Seungkwan is not mature enough to make proper use of martial arts. 

_Apparently_.  
  
“We wanted you to learn some self-defense, and not a way to break your classmate’s jaw.”  
  
“He was looking at me, dad.”  
  
“Oh, really? _Really_ , Seungkwan?”  
  
“Whatever.”  
  
The problem is that he knows something is going to happen, and that it could happen at any given moment. He just doesn’t know _when_ , that’s what drives him freaking insane.  
  
He fears every touch, stroke, friendly pat on the back or fleeting, innocent glance stolen during classes. Even casual bumps on the shoulders are a problem for him, since he doesn’t know how his body is going to react, and he ends up becoming an exposed bundle of homicidal nerves.  
  
He doesn’t want to be smelled. He doesn’t want to be sensed. He doesn’t want to hear any superior sneer coming out of an alpha’s mouth as he looks down at him, cornering him at the end of the hallway like he’s some kind of whiny scaredy-cat ready to piss himself in front of a superior being. He doesn’t want to feel his legs tremble, nor the need to lower his head and bend his neck to the side, sweating in fear of being bitten or scratched, and even less showing any sign of frightened submission. If he ever has to go down on his knees in his life, he wants to do it in a fight to death, only won by the greater power of punches and kicks, broken bones, bruises and nosebleeds, and not by the irresistible scent of an available alpha who’s more than ready to fuck him senseless.  
  
It’s not like he can simply buy in the nearest drugstore an affective injection of dominance, so he fights it with all he’s got, when he still has time.  
  
Until time runs out.

* * *

  
He turns sixteen, and that’s when he lets his guard down.  
  
Unable to attend any further taekwondo lesson with his old friends, after almost a couple of years of complete physical inactivity and absolute boredom, his parents settle for letting him play on his school soccer team.  
  
Seungkwan starts playing and as soon as he puts on those soccer shoes he begins feeling better; and better. And much better. He’s no longer the awkward, violent teenager who reacts to unwanted attention with the crushing power of his fists. It’s been too long. The heat, the tight, burning coil of uneasiness and wetness, never came for him. It never crept under his skin to awake any feverish need. It didn’t attack him in his sleep, nor in the middle of a class, right in front of everyone’s eyes, and therefore, when he anxiously reaches his sixteenth birthday, he can’t but deduce that he’s finally safe. He’s _free_. There’s no way he can be an omega, if he’s passed the gateway of fifteen without ever going into heat, not even once. It’s just impossible.  
  
Relieved by that idea, he opens up a little to the world. He keeps on running, and he gets slimmer, faster, somewhat stronger and overall happier. He smiles a lot more, because after what seemed like a lifetime everything is finally smiling back at him.  
  
And it’s in that moment, right when he least expects it, that nature hits him.  
  
_Hard_.  
  
In the knees.  
  
He’s coming back to the locker room after the usual hour of practice, exhausted but contempt about his increasing results, and he’s already diving in for the quickest shower in the history of showers since he really needs to be at home in less than half an hour. A couple of teammates joke about the size of their own dicks, but he doesn’t join the general laughs. He simply smiles to himself, silently amused by their idiocy, stroking absent-mindedly his naked body before turning the water to a warmer setting and start to get rid of the soft foam covering his skin.  
  
He’s not lively as usual, as today his sense of smell has been an incredible pain in the ass. Nothing to do about it. It’s freaking spring, anyway. Everything stinks of sweetness, sweat, raging hormones, general happiness and, most of all, of a subtle, stinging sense of excitement. The uncontrollable riot of youth is ready to explode and fill the air of thousands of different scents, and Seungkwan feels indeed incredibly dizzy. That morning he woke up almost nauseous, even unable to endure the distinct smell of Do’s breakfast creeping from the backyard, and now being in a locker room full of naked, hunky hormonal young boys covered in all various types of shampoos is literally killing-  
  
It’s a punch.  
  
It’s an unexpected, sudden punch in the guts, so hard and abrupt that it knocks the air out of his lungs.  
  
“Hey, Seungkwan, you’ve been really working out, haven’t you?”  
  
His body freezes on the spot. He feels paralyzed, and he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to lift even one damn finger.  
  
“Y-yeah,” he forces out a reply, choked and breathless. “Of course I have.”  
  
“If you keep it up like this, somebody in here is gonna lose his girlfriend!”  
  
It’s supposed to sound friendly and playful, just a bunch of humorous words without any actual meaning, but in Seungkwan’s now overly receptive ears that phrase has a dangerous ring. The look that falls over his naked body from the opposite shower is brief, light and particularly uncaring, and somehow it still weights on his skin harder than a real caress. It burns him, tiny spark of a blaze that ignites his ribcage and heats his deep, short breath.  
  
“Nobody is going to lose a girlfriend, here. I still smell them all over your fucking clothes, and I can already tell you that I’m not interested,” he tries to laugh, but he doesn’t feel like he did good enough.  
  
“Oh, yeah. Seungkwan’s legendary nose strikes again!” echoes another voice from the other side of the room, hidden by the light pouring of the water. “If I had a nose like yours I would definitely try working for the intelligence department.”  
  
Seungkwan’s hand clenches around the shower handle, knuckles whitening under the cascade of warm droplets. “… intelligence department?” he huffs before breathing in deeply and turning it to the coldest setting. “You want to have a sharper nose just to be able to smell the wet panties around school, dude.”  
  
“What?! No, I’m serious!”  
  
There’s an explosion of laughs all around him, a hilarity to which he doesn’t partake.  
  
If that boy had Seungkwan’s nose, he wouldn’t be simply able to smell wet panties through at least five walls of distance. He could also afford to smell the two young and strong alphas of their team, showering in the boxes at his immediate left.  
  
Because Seungkwan can. He does smell them, now. It never happened before, but he knows what it means. Oh, he knows. He fucking _knows_ , since he’s been waiting and fearing this moment his entire freaking life and now it’s happening with the worst timing in human history ever. And the whole point is that if he can smell them, they surely can smell _him_ for a way too damn obvious reason.  
  
The water is now cold, a shower of liquid ice dripping from his head, but under his skin there’s a dormant volcano that has decided to awaken right there and right now, and the surging heat doesn’t decrease, not even a bit, not for one second.  
  
Seungkwan breathes heavily, face turned towards the white tiles of the wall. He’s panicking. He’s panicking so bad that he can’t even let go of the shower handle, afraid that his legs might fail him and start shaking too.  
  
He needs to get out of there.  
  
“Seungkwan, is it true that during middle school you were like… a serial killer?”  
  
“Me?” his lips are slowly turning blue, but his cheeks shines of the brightest red. “Oh, yeah. I liked practicing taekwondo with those who said my dick’s too small.”  
  
“Well, it’s not like your-”  
  
“Do you want me to kick you too?” he barks, mischievous, with unmovable determination, before deciding to step out of the shower once and for all.  
  
“No, thank you, I don’t have a death wish.”  
  
“But I kinda want to see Seungkwan’s taekwondo skills, tho’,” another voice, from another direction.  
  
“Me too! I learnt hapkido, we could have a face-off!”  
  
“Hey, Seungkwan, where are you going?”  
  
Out. As far away as possible. Back to his room. Somewhere dark where he’ll lock himself up and cry all night long, alone, undisturbed, choking his manly sobs into a pillow.  
  
“I’m sorry, guys, I need to be at home early today, I don’t have time to kill you all,” he sighs lightly, putting on his best fake smile – which is somehow the worst too – as he sends a cunning smirk to one of the closest teammates. “Just be glad that I’m sparing you.”  
  
He doesn’t exactly expect to get hard right in the middle of the locker room, but he still dresses up as fast as he can, hiding his small, shaking body under piles of large clothes. An unwanted hard-on from all those appealing pheromones that decides to rise in front of the whole soccer team would only be the icing on the cake, and his certain undoing. He just prays that by escaping from there at the speed of light nobody notices a thing.  
  
He almost runs into the closed door.  
  
  
  
Different from Moonbin, who’s been taking regular medications to get rid of any kind of associated, unwanted problem whenever heat decided to strike him, Seungkwan lays on his bed with only a glass of water by his side, placed on the nightstand, as nothing but complete silence surrounds him.  
  
He’s calm, now. The fright’s gone, maybe just thanks for being back to the safest place of all, under his own roof, and his mind is finally peaceful, placid, empty like it’s never been in a very long time. He feels void of thoughts and feelings, quieter than he would have ever expected to be in this exact moment. Probably because he’s tired. Exhausted, too. Wasted.  
  
As he was running back home on his own feet, too afraid to get close to anyone to catch a bus or even dare get onto the metro, he felt like crying. And he did, a little, even if no tears run down his inflamed cheeks. His eyes burnt with bitter frustration, along with his entire body, and by the time he kicked the front door open he was already undressing, throwing hoodie, tank top and belt in the air just to get rid of them as soon as possible and be able to lock himself up in the shower – the second and not even last of the day –.  
  
Not a word’s exchanged with his parents, that evening. Not a glance. Seungkwan doesn’t need to talk about it, doesn’t need _the_ talk. He knows that they know and they know they better shut up for a while, at least until everything’s gone away.  
  
Seungkwan doesn’t think it’s supposed to feel that way, that _easy_. It’s obviously different for every omega, from unbearable degrees of hot to a barely, slight, imperceptible sense of burning underneath the skin, depending simply on the season, the hormonal balance of the environment and the hypothetical presence of an object of desire in the near proximity. To those who experience all of that at once, it’s probably hell.

To Seungkwan, who’s currently not interested in anyone, doesn’t give a fuck about spring and barely had a chance to smell the sweet, sweet afterglow of sex on the wet skin of two close alphas, it’s hardly an annoying sensation of deep, overwhelming uneasiness. Differently from all the times he had touched himself in the past, that evening it feels like he can’t help it. He just _needs_ it.

He has to do something about it, before the craving swallows his whole sanity, setting his body on fire on the unmade bed sheets that rustle beneath him. It’s only when he realizes that he has managed, somehow, from stroke to stroke, to roll on his stomach and then end up on all fours, with his face pressed against the pillow, that he understands why Moonbin struggles so hard against nature. It’s obnoxious.

It’s fucking obnoxious and even more disturbing when he feels his body starting to climax at the sudden fantasy of those teammates, half undressed, fucking their pretty girlfriends in that same position, dominating them with sharp, deep, incessant thrusts. And he loses it. His resistance comes undone with one last choked sob, muffled angrily in the damp pillow that he has bitten with all his strength, and for the first time Seungkwan feels like he has just made it worse.

There’s no sense of relief to soften his tense body, after the orgasm. Not even a glint. Just rage, fatigue, deep shivers of frustration and excessive salivation, still increasing every minute passing by with the impelling need to sink his teeth into hot, human flesh.  
  
God, he hates it.  
  
He has to jerk off other three times before feeling any better, and he hates it so, so much.

* * *

In the end, it takes him other three years to get completely used to it.  
  
It’s a slow process, a path that he should have begun walking through long ago, something about himself that Seungkwan refused to accept when he was a child and loathed even more during the dawn of his adolescence, but that becomes less and less painful with time. What really hurt him the most, at first, was that he truly believed he wasn’t an omega. A part of him knew, deep below, and most of all thanks to the usual contribution of every family member who had the chance to talk about it, but another part of him still firmly _believed_ that it was different. That he was different. He never dared hope or dream to be an alpha, he knew it was beyond impossible from the start, but even so developing into a young, strong beta seemed to him more than just a fantasy.  
  
A foolish delusion, reflected by the dark surface of a pond full of stars.  
  
Ultimately, despite all the initial drama, he has to admit that growing up isn’t that bad.  
  
Aside from those few moments of utter panic, when he accidentally smells a horny alpha around school, it’s not bad at all. At first he has to run – not that he has to, he simply doesn’t want to give off any kind of accidental, unwanted and completely out of place hormonal response, and running is the only effective solution he knows –.

Then he learns the aftershave trick, corrected with the right balance of synthetic testosterone. And finally, just to be completely safe, he gives up and embrace the “Moonbin solution”, a couple of hormonal pills always present in his back pocket in case he ends up caught in what could develop into a compromising situation and he really needs to stop smelling like willing, free and still untouched omega.

* * *

  
High school is the chaotic phase of his life. It brings Seungkwan a new kind of discomfort and pain on a whole new mental degree, and most of all in the form of a trio of friends that Moonbin himself isn’t even that happy to have around, but it’s also able to give them the power to light up his sullen spirit. He soon finds out that he couldn’t be any safer with them around, those four loud idiots who smell like _nothing_ to him; nothing dangerous or problematic in any way. He willingly hangs out with them more than with people of his age, and the fact that Minhyuk’s literally surrounded by alpha friends may also be one of the many excuses.  
  
“… you don’t really look like an omega, to me,” is the incredibly honest response that his old friend gives him, one afternoon, so blatant and straightforward that Seungkwan’s jaw almost drops on the ground.  
  
It’s just the two of them, right by the school fence, and Seungkwan has finally decided to spill everything, to give up and explain at his best why he keeps on refusing to hang out with him and his friends, and Minhyuk is surprisingly at ease with it. With _all_ of it, Seungkwan’s nature too.  
  
“But you shouldn’t worry, you know?” he punches lightly Seungkwan’s shoulder. “My friends are all cool with that.”  
  
“I know that they’re cool, well, I _hope_ so, it’s just that I don’t want to- I _hate_ not being able to stop myself from reacting when I feel one of them around,” he growls, low, as he tries to keep calm about it. “You don’t even know- it’s horrible, ok? Unbearable. It makes me wanna dig a hole in the ground and hide till the end of time.”  
  
Minhyuk blinks, perplexed. “… shouldn’t it make you wanna spread your legs for them?”  
  
And Seungkwan’s jaw drops for real, this time. “… wow. _Wow_. Thank you so much, dude, you’re really _not fucking helping at all_.”  
  
“Look, I’m sorry,” he immediately rises both hands in sign of defeat, “I was just trying for a pun. I guess. Never mind.”  
  
“Well then, now tell me: how would you feel if you’d get all hot and bothered _without any actual reason_ for one of them, and that guy would suddenly be able to _smell_ it and, guess what, pop a very random boner too?”  
  
Minhyuk looks around for a moment, briefly, like he’s seriously considering his friend’s problem. Then he speaks: “I think I would ride them all.”  
  
“ _What?!_ ”  
  
“I’m kidding! _I’m kidding!_ No, please, don’t punch me- AH! _Seungkwan!_ ”  
  


* * *

  
The fourth time he sees his own blood, he actually can’t see a damn thing at all.  
  
His first week of university began with a rainfall of shooting stars painting the night sky of golden and silver twinkling stripes, and Seungkwan’s wondered if he could wish for it to be a good sign, if he could dream for changes, happy ones, most likely, without getting immediately hit in the nuts by the sad, cruel reality.  
  
Well.  
  
He does get hit, barely five days after. But – if he could say _gladly_ – just on the face.  
  
In that moment, when everything around him turns pitch black, a buzzing void of absolute darkness that hauls his mind to a much familiar situation, something that was experienced during his childhood and that now tastes like déjà-vu in his mouth, he feels good. It’s just a brief split of a second, though, because the pain kicks in right after to completely erase every bit of consciousness left.  
  
Seungkwan passes out just to wake up a few seconds later, sprawled in the middle of the hallway with blood dripping from his nose and students already running towards him to help. There’s a soccer ball bouncing not too far away, he can see it right before his sight blurs and fades away behind a stinging, burning curtain of uncontrollable tears. He’s soon grabbed and lifted up, put once again on his wobbling feet, as he tries to cover his face and stop, or at least contain in some way, the nosebleed.

He’s not given any time to understand the dynamics of the event and, most of all how the fuck a soccer ball managed to hit him like that _inside_ of the building, but at least there are helpful arms that support his body and prevent him from collapsing on the floor for the dizziness, and therefore he’s able to reach safely the infirmary.  
  
Nothing’s broken. Ice is still needed, along with a couple of tampons too, because Seungkwan keeps on bleeding lightly for almost half an hour. He bleeds, and he laughs, bitter and pained. And all of this, somehow, seems more and more strangely familiar to him. It’s been so long since he had a good taste of his own blood that he almost forgot how it felt like, even how much he undoubtedly liked it. If it wasn’t for the pain, sharp and strong and now pulsating under his swollen skin, he knows damn too well that he would definitely be enjoying this.  
  
When the door of the infirmary opens to reveal the outline of a stranger, Seungkwan’s still drenched in droplets of cerise red and the left side of his face feels like it’s been set on fire. He doesn’t understand that this person has come for him until he notices that those uncertain steps are undoubtedly moving closer to his bed.  
  
“… uhm… hi.”  
  
Then he looks up, curious but distrustful. “… hi?” he barely mouths, lips still burning from the previous impact. He can only breathe through his mouth, since his nose is definitely out of order.  
  
“I- well, I need to apologize,” the guy fidgets and glances one last time at Seungkwan’s stuffed nose before lowering his eyes to the floor with a mortified expression. He seems uncomfortable. “I… uhm, I may- no, I have kicked the ball that hit you. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”  
  
Seungkwan shrugs a little, without any actual care. Whoever this is, he looks anxious and innocently dumb enough to deserve his forgiveness. It’s not like he’s dead or damaged for life, anyway. A nosebleed shouldn’t be that much of a big deal, especially for him, who’s gone through so much worse.  
  
“I was playing outdoor, in the field of the campus,” he adds, clearing his throat as he tries to explain the situation with a little more accuracy. “I thought I was- well, I tried to score a goal but I kicked the ball a bit too hard and it flew right through the open window of the hallway and… yeah, you’re lying on an infirmary bed. With a broken nose.”  
  
Seungkwan can see him gulping. The kid’s face is almost white by now, twisted in fear and remorse.  
  
“… you didn’t even hit me that hard,” he decides to reply. God, if he could only take the tampons out of his nostrils and _breathe_. “It’s ok, anyway. Nothing’s broken over here. I just bled a bit. But I bled more in the past, trust me, this is really nothing.”  
  
“R-really? You’re… ok?”  
  
Those big, concerned eyes glimmer for a second, brightening up with some sort of comfort.  
  
“Well, if you call this “ok”…” and Seungkwan snorts. Bad idea. It still hurts too much to do that. “Are _you_ ok, tho’? I hope you’re not in trouble for this. Getting suspended for something so stupid would be too bad.”  
  
The guy blinks repeatedly, uneasy, now that he tries to grasp the right words. “Well… it doesn’t look like I broke anything… important… so…” he mutters, voice getting lower and lower until it disappears into an embarrassed sigh. “I mean- not that your face isn’t important!” he corrects himself as soon as he realizes Seungkwan’s sudden frown, eyes growing wider and cheeks warming up a little in a soft shade of shame. “It’s- it’s very important. Definitely more than a window. I just… yeah, I’m really sorry, I don’t know what-”  
  
“Hey, hey, it’s ok. It’s not like you hit a girl,” Seungkwan puts the ice back in place, hissing at the feeling of the hammering pain. “By the way…” he huffs with exhaustion, “… I play soccer too.”  
  
He doesn’t miss that first smile. It’s like a feeble glint of light, a spark, a sudden sigh of relief so genuine that Seungkwan can’t almost believe how much that face seems to change just thanks to those slightly arched lips.  
  
“… you do?” the other breathes out like he’s been in apnea for the whole time. “Really?”  
  
“I’ll show you, maybe. Not today, for sure,” he feels like laughing, even if he’s in pain. That face looks so surprised by what he’s just said that it’s beyond hilarious. “But I have to tell you, I’m good at it. I don’t just throw the ball against windows like an amateur.”  
  
“I’m good too,” it’s the immediate response. “Despite accidents, I mean.”  
  
Seungkwan glares at him before glancing back to the assistant, who’s stepping closer to his bed in order to check out his condition. “We’ll see about that,” he exhales in an undertone, before finally getting rid of those obnoxious tampons.  
  
He’s not in a bad condition, now that the bleeding has stopped. He would probably feel good and ready to pick up his afternoon lessons too, if only the ball didn’t hit him hard enough to leave its red signature on his face. It’s like the hardest slap he could ever get in his life, and it definitely has marked him for the rest of the day. It burns, still, despite the cooling effect of the ice.  
  
“God, I’m so sorry,” the guy apologizes once more, forcing Seungkwan’s eyes to rise from the little mirror that’s been given to him.  
  
“Don’t be,” he retorts, tired and slightly annoyed. He should probably just head home. “The only thing that bugs me is not my face, but my clothes. It looks like I’ve accidentally stepped in the set of The Walking Dead.”  
  
“Yeah, you… really look like you need a change.”  
  
“It’s not like I usually come here with another pair of clothes just in case a ball hits my nose and I bleed fucking everywhere,” he adds with immediate, sharp sarcasm. He doesn’t exactly want to make him feel any more guilty than that, since the guy looks already pretty damn mortified and troubled enough, but he would gladly do much better without obvious and worthless observations of that kind.  
  
“Well, I… uhm, I can lend you my sweatshirt.”  
  
Seungkwan looks up from the multitude of bloody spots that painted his shirt. He probably heard it wrong. It must be some kind of repercussion from the incident.  
  
“I have a jacket with me, I can use that. It’s not a problem,” the guy explains briefly, now even more and more confident as he speaks about it. “And it’s kind of hot outside too, so…”  
  
It’s probably _wrong_ to a certain extent, but Seungkwan’s surprised gaze drops slowly along the soft, slim frame of that body before he even have a chance of realizing that it’s not the right place or time to check somebody out. And he can’t stop himself from gawking at him, mouth hanging open with a breathless snort. It’s kind of embarrassing too, but he’s too stunned by those words to even care.  
  
“If- I mean, if you don’t mind wearing my stuff,” the other stutters, looking away for a second. He smiles to himself a bit more, then he immediately frowns deeply as if he realized only in that moment that he may have kind of jumped outside of the comfort zone. “I- it’s just that I feel like I have to do something to make up to you, since I hurt you. You know… if you want I can ask for-”  
  
“I don’t mind. I don’t really mind,” Seungkwan stops him with an uncaring shrug. “It’s fine, as long as it fits.”  
  
A part of his brain regrets saying that, just a little, when he sees him undress right in front of him.

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

“… Hansol?” Jihoon glances up from his notebook. “Why do I have the feeling I’ve already heard that name?”  
  
Sprawled on his neighbor’s bed with bored, lifeless lethargy, Seungkwan flips on his back and curls absent-mindedly the cooling bandage that covers his nose. It’s barely been six hours from that incident and the pain is almost completely gone. He feels just a little sore, but nothing more.  
  
“Hey, Soonyoung,” Jihoon kicks lightly the boy that lies down on his belly right next to him, on the wooden floor of the room. “Soonyoung,” he calls him again, since the latter has one earplug on. “Dude, what was your friend’s name? That one from the music school.”  
  
Soonyoung grumps at first, annoyed by the foot that almost hit his head, and turns around to flash them a particularly perplexed look. “… the music school? You mean Hansol?” he asks, earplug now in his hand and sleepy eyes lingering in the empty space between them.  
  
“Yes, Hansol!” Jihoon exclaims, brightening up. “It’s him!”  
  
“… it’s him… _who?_ ” Soonyoung’s never looked more confused.  
  
Seungkwan rolls over to his right side so that he can face his friends. “The guy I met today at the university. The one who did this to me,” and he lifts the bandage to show his puffy red nose.  
  
“Dirty blonde dyed hair, looks mixed, creepy eyes that often look like they’re seeing something we can’t, a birthmark in the shape of a heart?”. Soonyoung lists immediately with incredible ease, fast and confident.  
  
Oh. Well, he didn’t notice the last one.  
  
“… he has a heart-shaped birthmark?” Seungkwan frowns as he tries to remember those features.  
  
“Oh god. It’s him,” Soonyoung sits up so fast that even Jihoon jumps on the spot, taken by surprise by all of that sudden, unexpected interest. “It’s really him. You met him!”  
  
“Yeah, sure… and why do you look like you’re possessed, now?” he can’t but ask, particularly unsure on what to feel about that abrupt change of attitude. “Did I meet a star or something?”  
  
Seungkwan doesn’t like that face. It’s the kind of face that his sister makes when she’s browsing late at night and she thinks nobody’s watching her, and it’s not only disturbing but particularly scary too. It’s the kind of face that makes him want to lock himself up in his room and hide in the closet, to be perfectly honest.  
  
“A star?” Soonyoung bursts out laughing. “Oh, yeah. Maybe. I guess it depends on the point of view. From the prospective of his fan club, I’d say yes.”  
  
“… did you just say _fan club_.”  
  
“Man, you really have no idea, don’t you.”  
  
“I have no idea about _what_ ,” and at this point he really feels like throwing a shoe at that idiotic face, because he can’t stand it anymore.  
  
“Hansol…” Soonyoung rolls his eyes towards the ceiling, trying to collect his thoughts into the most precise and concise summary. “… he is… how can I put it? Well, I could say… dangerous, I guess.”  
  
“Dangerous,” all the anticipation that Seungkwan was feeling disappears in the blink of an eye. One word, and he’s already more indifferent to this stuff than to his long dead calculus assignment. “Really. _Dangerous_ , Soonyoung. Is that all you got?” he huffs, bored, as he flips on his stomach.  
  
“… well, he’s a nice guy. And I mean it. He’s really nice,” the other nods with conviction, lost in thoughts. Then he stops and looks right at him. “But he’s dangerous. I don’t think he’s the type of person you would like to hang out with.”  
  
“I really don’t know what you’re talking about,” he slurs, plain and apathetic. “And it’s not like I care. In fact, I really don’t care at all.”  
  
Soonyoung breathes in with a satisfied grin. “Good. That’s actually really good. Because I would definitely stay away from him if I were you, you know.”  
  
“… no, I honestly _don’t know_. But whatever, Soonyoung. I just have to see him again tomorrow, and that’s it. He can even go screw himself, for all I care.”  
  
“Wait, why do you have to see him?” he asks immediately.  
  
“Why are you asking me?” Seungkwan glares at him.  
  
“Well why aren’t you answering me, then?” Soonyoung glares back.  
  
And that’s the moment when Seungkwan almost chokes on his own saliva. That’s when he realizes what’s written all over his friend’s face, when he really, finally _understands_.

“ _Oh my god,_ Soonyoung,” he even shuts his eyes, placing a hand in front of them with incredulous resignation. “You can’t be thinking-”  
  
“Oh, I _am_ thinking,” he cuts him off immediately.  
  
“I have no fucking clue what you two are talking about,” Jihoon explodes, and he does it so unexpectedly that they both jump out of their skin. He smacks his notebook on the floor, flustered and exasperated. “But if you don’t lower your fucking voice I’m going to fucking _skin_ you. Ok?”  
  
“… jeez,” Soonyoung grimaces. “What’s your problem? Are you feeling the full moon again?”  
  
“You’re too fucking noisy!” Jihoon blurts out.  
  
“Well excuse me if the idea of Hansol eating Seungkwan alive kind of disturbs me enough to rise my usual tone of voice.”  
  
Seungkwan frowns. “Wait, did I miss something? Who the fuck is going to eat _whom_?”  
  
“You don’t understand,” Soonyoung turns to him once again, “he’s the type of guy that with someone like you- he won’t just take an inch, ok? He will take a fucking _mile_. And for real.”  
  
“I think you’re completely misunderstanding the situation, Soonyoung,” he replies, this time calm and firm about it. “And you may know this Hansol guy better than me, I’m sure, but I can assure you that I have _no_ intention of knowing him any better or even less wasting my precious time hanging out with him. And that’s it.”  
  
“Oh but you _will_ want to know him, because he’s a nice guy.” There’s a way, in how confidently Soonyoung insists, that makes Seungkwan’s whole body hair rise in a subtle shiver. It’s like he’s explaining the most natural, obvious and expected thing on earth, and still nobody in that room is able to grasp it.  
  
“Soonyoung, for the love of god!” Jihoon slams a hand on his forehead even on Seungkwan’s behalf. “Can you make up your mind for once?! You’re confusing even _me_ , when I don’t want to have nothing to do with this!”  
  
“I’m just trying to be nice, in case nobody has noticed yet, and I’m doing my best to give some good advices. If Seungkwan has decided to go on a date with the devil I need to-”  
  
“Woah woah woah _woah what the fuck_ , slow fucking down okay,” Seungkwan’s growling, now. “I’m not going on a date with _anyone_. The hell are you talking about. Have you lost your fucking mind?”  
  
“Then why the hell are you meeting Hansol tomorrow?” the question hits him back with immediate, inevitable accuracy.  
  
This should be a simple, boring and overall pacific afternoon spent indoor, doing nothing at all but relax and vegetate, and not an occasion to get the biggest headache of the century. He can feel it, already heavy on his head, for a moment so strong that he thinks he’s going to wind up murdering someone.  
  
“I’m not going on a fucking date. Look, he hit me. He made me bleed for almost half an hour, and my shirt was drenched in blood. He just gave me his sweatshirt so that I wouldn’t walk around the campus like a fool, that’s why I have to meet him before my lessons, tomorrow, to give it back to him.”  
  
“You’re telling me that the reason I smelled serial killer material when I stepped into this room is not because Jihoon’s going into heat in a week, but because you’re wearing Hansol’s sweatshirt?”  
  
“Soonyoung, sweetie, do you have a death wish?” Jihoon’s one step closer to homicide.  
  
“I’m-” looking down his own body, Seungkwan realizes just in that moment that he forgot to go home and change clothes once more before crawling into Jihoon’s room. “Yes. I’m wearing it. I must say, it’s comfortable.”  
  
Soonyoung’s face is, for a second, the epitome of complete disgust. Then it softens into what could be some sort of nauseated confusion. And then, at last, it transforms into something much scarier, darker and deadlier. It’s almost a smirk. It seems different, initially, since it could also be part of his normal, plain expression, but it happens, it really stretches on those cunning lips to arch them with devilish intent. And it’s all for Seungkwan, all for him, who shudders inside the warmth of those soft clothes as if he has just seen his own undoing.  
  
“Don’t give him an inch”  
  
Seungkwan thinks Soonyoung’s an idiot.  
  
Well, he’s thought that for quite a while by now, since he’s known him long enough to understand how his contorted and depraved mind works. Even so, having to witness it all over again thanks to the most idiotic misunderstanding ever – seriously, Seungkwan would laugh about it too, if he wasn’t still physically and mentally devastated – left him so exhausted and drained of emotions that for the rest of the evening he inevitably goes back to his old sulking self.  
  
Soonyoung’s always been devious, cunning and atrociously meticulous when it came to fuck throughout someone’s brain, and knowing that he himself may have become an acquired target makes him feel kind of nauseous. And murderous, too, but that’s one thing that he’s learnt to control pretty damn well during the last years.  
  
Soonyoung’s a complete idiot, that’s for sure. An idiot with bad conspiracy schemes in that little, twisted mind of his, moreover, otherwise Seungkwan wouldn’t be able to explain why the hell he has tried so freaking hard to warn him about Hansol. Differently from him, Seungkwan’s not that dumb. He has, in fact, already double-checked his one and only fear and sociological problem as soon as he had the chance. It’s actually the first thing he has done, when Hansol’s sweatshirt had landed on his lap, ready to cover the creepy and bloody mess painting his shirt with its long, baby blue sleeves.

For a moment, just the time needed to breathe in, the uneasiness had almost choked him. Inhaling the scent of a stranger so close to himself, to his own skin, felt like a punch in the stomach. As he slowly, carefully, began sniffing it, pressing slightly his sore nose against that soft, still awkwardly _warm_ fabric, he had analyzed it at his best, with attentive cautiousness. In that moment, his whole face still hurt too much for that kind of stuff, pulsating with a stinging pain that made it too hard to distinguish scent from scent. However, now that many hours has already passed and the pain’s almost completely vanished, and he honestly has nothing better to do but listening to that kind of pathetic bullshit, he can feel the seed of doubt sprouting once more in his chest. Unsure about his own previous judgment, he grabs the hem of the right sleeve and lifts it pensively, bringing it close to his puffy nose. And he nuzzles it.  
  
Hansol smells like fresh soap, a glint of minty aftershave and… good. Hansol smells somewhat good, like healthy, average beta, normal young male with a precise likening for natural scents, and most of all anything but danger.  
  
“Oh my god, look at you, sniffing his sweatshirt like a freaking _schoolgirl_.”  
  
“Fuck you,” he hisses.  
  
“I’m _so_ telling Hansol.”  
  
“I said _fuck you_.”

* * *

  
  
The next morning Seungkwan finds Hansol waiting patiently by the calculus class, leaning against the white wall with glasses deliberately slipping on his tiny nose and a severe case of bedroom hair that would make anyone want to reach out and _pull_ it, and he looks so amazingly pretty, so stunningly good-looking, and so breathtakingly _cute_ that – Seungkwan thinks – if this is what danger looks like, he’s going to eat it for breakfast.  
  
“I know you know Kwon Soonyoung,” he approaches him with immediate straightforwardness, cold but perfectly calm, as he steps closer to the open door of his classroom. “And this is yours,” he adds, pushing the bag that contains the washed, dried and perfectly ironed sweatshirt against the other’s chest. “Thank you for lending it to me.”  
  
Completely taken by surprise by his sudden appearance, Hansol startles a bit when the crumpled surface of the bag hits his ribcage. He didn’t see Seungkwan coming in his direction, not even by the corner of his eyes, since he seemed too busy typing extra fast on his cellphone, and Seungkwan tries not to laugh at the way the glasses slip further down that nose when Hansol’s face jerks up in surprise.  
  
“… oh! It’s you,” he responds, eyes growing wide and lightening up as he manages to recognize him. “I- uhm- what did you just say-”  
  
“I said that you know Kwon Soonyoung,” Seungkwan insists, lifting an eyebrow to highlight the concept. “And that I’m thankful that you lent me your sweatshirt.”  
  
“Oh, it was really nothing, I mean- I was the one who hurt you so I needed to- y-you look good today, anyway,” and he stutters so much that he ends up shutting himself up for his own good with a hard bite on his bottom lip, now busy putting the glasses back in place, grabbing the bag and finishing his previous text message in a hurry.  
  
Seungkwan leans against the frame of the door and glances at the students who have already taken a seat inside the big, academic classroom. “Of course I look good. You just hit me with a ball, not with a truck,” he huffs at Hansol’s flushed expression. “Besides, I think that the “ _Soonyoung topic_ ” is a bit more relevant, right now.”  
  
“We have a friend in common,” Hansol smiles, and his eyes crinkles.  
  
“More like a shared source of pain,” he corrects him.  
  
“… really?” that pretty mouth twists in a slight smirk. “Nah, he’s a nice guy.”  
  
“You don’t know him that well, then,” Seungkwan sighs deeply, but he still reciprocates that hint of a smile. “Did you know that he thinks you’re dangerous, for example?”  
  
The next time Hansol rises his eyes from the cellphone, there’s a glint of surprise on his face. And it doesn’t exactly darken his expression, casting the first sign of shadows over it, but it still kind of gives him some sort of unexpected seriousness. Every bit of embarrassment or cute clumsiness fades away right in front of Seungkwan’s amused eyes.  
  
“… is that what he said about me?”  
  
“Oh, yeah. And why do you think he would feel the need to say such thing to me?” he wonders, frowning, more and more amused as he sees seriousness making its way on Hansol’s face.  
  
“I have no idea,” comes the unsure reply. “Maybe because I scare him, or maybe because he’s an idiot,” and the smile returns immediately on those lips with new, stronger conviction. “Well, since you know him too, I think you already know if you should trust his words or not.”  
  
Seungkwan leans completely against the frame of the door and grins at him. “I don’t know, actually. Should I?” he insists.  
  
Hansol doesn’t respond. He looks at him, right in his eyes, as his smile becomes even wider and brighter. Seungkwan gazes, distracted, at the happy wrinkles that reappear behind the lens of the glasses, just to make him seem even more joyful and alluring, and he kind of feels his stomach twist.  
  
Well… _damn_.  
  
Hansol’s a model. He’s definitely a freaking model and there are probably girls moaning and whimpering on the other side of the hallway by now, stroking the wall in place of his toned, flat chest with burning desire and deep, heavy breathing. He’s a model and Seungkwan thinks he really has to get out of there right now if he doesn’t want to be swept away by the general attention.  
  
Playing with fire is definitely not his thing. It’s never been.  
  
“He texted me yesterday, just so you know. He wrote about you.”  
  
Then Seungkwan feels every drop of blood drain from his face, only to rush back there right after and explode in a tingling, subtle heat.  
  
“If you know him that well too, you should obviously know that trusting him is not a choice,” he retorts, tension perfectly hidden behind a big, devious grin. “And that his level of bullshit can be sometimes infinite.”  
  
Hansol looks particularly entertained by all of this. “Oh, I don’t know, really. Should I?” he silently sniggers at him.  
  
“Don’t play this game with me, Hansol,” Seungkwan moves forward, swaying slowly towards the classroom. “I don’t have time, anyway. It’s been nice being hit by your ball, but now I need to attend my lesson, so…”  
  
Hansol detaches his back from the wall and he immediately steps closer even if Seungkwan has already walked through the open door. “Hey. Seungkwan,” he calls, waiting for him to spin around and meet his eyes one last time. “The park by the hospital, two blocks from here. I play soccer there, before dinner. Maybe, if you want to come by and take your rightful vengeance…”  
  
Seungkwan smiles at him, but gulps down any reply that his brain is slyly whispering in his ears.  
  
Fuck that, he’s not going.

* * *

  
Or – _you know what_ – maybe yes.  
  
After having by pure accident lost the bus and taken without any notice _at all_ – he wants to specify – the longest way home, finding himself, that same evening, walking by the evergreen bushes of the park is what he likes to call _what a damn strange coincidence, right?_. And he swears, with all of his heart, that he hasn’t planned any of this. Not a bit.  
  
The little soccer field of the park is, as expected, already taken over by a joyful group of friends, fast runners and loud – _very_ loud – players, and when Seungkwan glances at it without much care, he bites the inner flesh of his cheek and tries really hard to stop himself from walking in their direction. He endures, like always, because he knows he can.  
  
It’s six pm, anyway, he has still plenty of time to go home on schedule.  
  
He repeats that to himself ten minutes later. And at twenty past six too. And at six and a half. When the clock strikes seven and a half, he has finished all of his calculus homework while sitting comfortably by his spot at the right corner of the field, hidden and undisturbed, and there’s just one friend left in company of Hansol on the other side of the net, not that far away. Passing unnoticed hasn’t only helped him finish his daily dose of study, but also scrutinize a little better the situation, like the person involved.

Hansol looks like a fast player, dedicated, competent and, in his small group of friends, maybe even unmatched, which obviously gives away that he’s been playing for a very long time. It’s because of that natural and undisputed talent that Seungkwan doesn’t understand how the hell he managed to nearly smash a window of their campus and knock out a student. A stupid idea sneaks under the watch of his rationality, but he’s fast at grabbing it and tossing it away before it starts to make any kind of idiotic sense.  
  
Seungkwan leaves the park that it’s almost eight o’ clock and even Hansol’s last friend’s gone from sight. He leaves him there, alone, mindlessly bouncing the ball at his feet as he sits on the wooden bench by the side of the field.  
  
Darkness slowly rises and envelops the green vegetation of the park, enlightened only by the feeble and warm glows of a street lamp, and when Seungkwan has finally reached his doorstep, the night has completely covered the city with its thick, pitch cloak.  
  
There’s no moon, no stars. Clouds rumble above his head.

* * *

  
“I don’t want to make it sound any creepier than it already is, but he was waiting for you.”  
  
“You’re the one who told me to not give him an inch, Soonyoung,” Seungkwan doesn’t show any care about rising his eyes from the textbook, but he still notices the tense tapping of his friend’s pencil on the surface of the table.  
  
“… wow,” the other sneers, stunned. “ _Wow_. You’re finally listening to my advice for the first time ever? Oh, wow, I’m going to cry. I’m seriously going to cry, Jihoon, give me a freaking tissue-”  
  
“Are you going to shut up or what?!” the latter snaps with a low hiss. “I don’t want to be kicked out of the library for the third time in a week!”  
  
“He’s right, Soonyoung,” Seungkwan agrees, gaze still fixed on the notes he’s taking. “If you could shut up, now, it would be much appreciated.”  
  
Soonyoung, apparently, hasn’t listened to any of that. “He told you that he plays soccer in the evening, didn’t he,” he clears his voice with a knowing cough.  
  
“So what,” the other shrugs.  
  
“Well that was an invitation, in case you’re too dumb to notice.”  
  
“My IQ has nothing to do with soccer, if I’m not mistaken.”  
  
“Yes, but that still doesn’t change the fact that he wanted you to play with him.”  
  
“Wow, that’s really cute. Whatever.”  
  
“My god, why are you being such a bitch about it?”  
  
“I don’t know, maybe because you’re kind of making things awkward even where there’s actually not supposed to be a fucking _thing_ to be awkward about in the first place?” he gives him the first murderous look of the day. “You may know him, but I don’t. And I’m not in the right mood for making new friends, so, excuse me.”  
  
“I’m not telling you to give him any inch of anything, just- if he asks you out, you can at least show up one time.”  
  
“Did he say that to you?”  
  
“No. But I _observed_ , ok?”  
  
Seungkwan stops writing. He puts down the pen. “… are you trying to hook me up with that Hansol guy, Soonyoung?”  
  
“Me- what? Oh _hell fucking no_.”  
  
“… because if you are, I’m going to rip your balls off.”

* * *

Seungkwan’s taking math and Hansol’s taking korean.  
  
Despite the various death threats, it’s one of those things that fill Soonyoung’s mouth to the point where he can’t physically shut up about it; ever. As a matter of fact, he talks so much about them, or anything remotely related to their life, that not much later Seungkwan finds out that even their schedule seems to fit despite their utter incompatibility. Not that _that_ would change a thing, from his prospective. Soonyoung, obviously, doesn’t agree.  
  
If there’s one thing that Seungkwan has to admit, is that it somehow became natural for him to notice that blond, ruffled hair passing by, most of the times in a hurry, across the crowded space of the hallways. It’s because of his pretty, model-esque face, he keeps on telling himself, and most of all because of Soonyoung. Yes, of course. It’s Soonyoung’s fault. It’s always his fault, whenever something impedes on the attention he harbors for calculus and tries to make his grades slips slightly from what should be a perfect, flawless career.  
  
One day – after too many days to count – Seungkwan turns the corner in a rush and almost walks into the girl with whom Hansol was sharing a carefree conversation, and for the first time after that first morning outside his classroom, he feels like he’s immediately thrown back in the center of the attention. It’s just a brief peek, though, since he stops by only to excuse himself and make sure he hasn’t bumped too hard into her. Seungkwan doesn’t let himself indulge more than a second in the warm, surprised smile that’s immediately directed to him, blooming on those soft – _why are they so soft_ – lips. And as he flees to the other side of the campus, he totally doesn’t think that Hansol’s mouth is somehow kind of incredibly kissable.

* * *

Seungkwan’s crunching his hormonal pills when he strolls through the park, that same evening, towards the apparently empty soccer field that he’s been seeing probably too damn often in the past month. It’s getting too dark and way too fast, like any autumnal night, to keep himself occupied with homework any longer, so he finally decides to step up from his usual spot, gather his books and a couple of mild palliatives – just because it’s always better being safe than sorry – and walk out of there, jumping for the first time since he’s ever been in that park on the other side of the net.  
  
“So… it really is a habit of yours, coming here to play. But why all alone?” the question comes natural as he looks down, with obvious curiosity, at the guy who’s been lying on the bench for the last ten minutes.  
  
Surprised, wide-open eyes shoot up at him from behind the light screen of a cellphone.  
  
“Wha-”, and for a moment Hansol’s left speechless, gaping like an idiot in complete shock. “- oh. Oh. It’s you!”  
  
Seungkwan has already decided that he doesn’t like taking him by surprise like this, mostly because seeing those eyes grow that big and dark makes something twist in the deepest pit of his stomach, but he still smiles at him with cunning nonchalance and he silently laughs at his reaction.  
  
“Hi”, he approaches him from scratches, both hands in his jeans pockets.  
  
Hansol sits up, a nervous chuckle barely shaking his chest. “Hi,” he then cutely blinks at him from beneath sweated bangs. “I was totally not expecting to see you here.”  
  
“Well, you told me to come here when I wanted to get my revenge, so…” his eyes travel down that body before he even has the slightest chance to realize it, so he sucks a little harder on the piece of strawberry pill that still lingers in his mouth.  
  
“So you are a vengeful guy,” Hansol’s cackle is breathless and sincere. “Small but lethal.”  
  
“Lethal?”  
  
“That’s…” Hansol coughs, realizing a bit too late that he may have said too much, and he halts. “Well, that’s how Soonyoung saved your contact on his phone. _Lethal_ …” he sniffs, flustered “… uhm… _bear_.”  
  
He tries his best, but Seungkwan’s jaw drops anyway. All of the murderous intents he had buried deep inside erupt all of a sudden, twisting his face in anger before he can even try to shake it away with resigned, forced amusement.  
  
“Oh, well…” his eyes roll towards the night sky “… I guess I’ll have to kill him. What a pain.”  
  
“But I think it’s kind of accurate,” Hansol tilts slightly his head to the side, as if he’s trying to get a better look at him. “I mean, you’re small, you know.”  
  
“Do you want to die too? By the way, we’re the same height, apparently.”  
  
“You’re smaller,” Hansol counters with immediate certainty.  
  
“… by what, a few inches?” Seungkwan’s eyebrows lift in doubt. “Your sweatshirt fit me perfectly.”  
  
“Yes, but my pants probably wouldn’t. You’re a shorty.”  
  
“Your pants would fit too.”  
  
“I think not. What, do you want to try it out?”  
  
Seungkwan grins at him, not a single step taken backwards. “I think you’ll have to get to know me better, if you really want to undress me,” he replies, perfectly calm and collected. “Or exchange clothes. Or numbers, too. Did Soonyoung maybe give you mine already, with clearly obvious bad intentions?”  
  
“I don’t like asking numbers to others but the rightful owners. Besides, reading “ _lethal bear_ among the contacts didn’t exactly sound that promising at all.”  
  
“I wonder how he saved _you_ , then.”  
  
“ _Giant dick_ ,” Hansol answers immediately, without a doubt. And that’s when he bursts out with an awkward laugh. “Yeah… for real. Giant dick and lethal bear. He looked pretty damn proud when he showed it to me, too.”  
  
“Well, it’s Soonyoung we’re talking about. He would probably draw penises over every contact, if he had the ch-”  
  
Seungkwan stops, breath caught in his throat with a spark of surprise when Hansol suddenly moves forward. Too freaking unexpected. And way too close for their own good. His face is swiftly so damn close to his that Seungkwan immediately fears for the worse, gulping at the sight of those dark, thick eyelashes.  
  
Then Hansol talks. “Your breath,” his gaze indulges on the other’s lips. “It smells so nice. What did you eat?”  
  
“S-strawberry candy,” he stutters for a second, forced to distance himself from that curious expression before any impulsive wave of heat finds its way to the surface, on his already flushed cheeks. No specification about the nature of that candy is apparently needed, nor will be even remotely allowed between them.  
  
“Oh,” Hansol nods. “That’s good. It kind of makes me feel hungry.”  
  
“It’s… kind of time for dinner, anyway,” and as Seungkwan looks down on his own feet, he prays for those pills to do their fucking job. “It’s really dark too.”  
  
“It always gets dark soon at this time of the year. You’re not up for a friendly match, then? One on one?” he whirls the soccer ball with one hand, inviting him to grab it and accept that playful proposal.  
  
“Well, I may have still some free time left before having to head back home, but… aren’t you waiting for someone, here? I don’t know, I don’t feel like interrupting any date or stuff like that.”  
  
Hansol passes him the ball and Seungkwan’s forced to stop it with a strong grip, swift and secure, before it hits his face.  
  
“I don’t have any date,” comes the natural, bold reply. “Or at least, I don’t think so. Do I?”  
  
“How would I even know?” Seungkwan plays nonchalantly with the ball, passing it from hand to hand, as he keeps his eyes fixed on that smug, bright, slightly mischievous smile.  
  
  
  
_Damn._  
  
  
  
It’s a sense of safety.  
  
It’s an unexplained sense of safety with any lack of pretension, some sort of easy inclination that slowly makes him gravitate closer and closer to the other and keeps on bringing Seungkwan back to his steps, without the slightest chance to realize what’s happening before it’s too late to pull back.  
  
At first it’s just the casual wave of a hand from the other side of the hallway, or a brief exchange of friendly smiles despite the distance that divides them. Then it’s a breathless, fierce soccer match disputed under the faded stars of the autumnal sky, with only the company of the surrounding, warm street lamps casting a soft light on the sweat glimmering on their foreheads, and sometimes, when the weather isn’t nice to them, a light drizzle to damp their ruffled hair.  
  
Then it’s a warm couple of coffee shared by the table of the closest bar to their university, first thing in the morning before lessons. And a first playful pinch on his left cheek.  
  
If there’s one thing that Seungkwan can say about Hansol, that _one_ thing which he’s absolutely certain about, is that he’s probably as dangerous as a little, peaceful butterfly.  
  
He’s dumb and funny, for the most part even stunningly smart in the right occasions, charming and shy around too many girls and, as expected, a monumental dork of gigantic proportions around other boys.

And he’s a flirt.

Oh, he’s a _flirt_.

He’s an insufferable tease that stops only when Seungkwan mans up and decides to shamelessly flirt back, making all of that conceited self-confidence crumble in the blink of an eye, finally transformed into a bright shade of red over those white cheeks. Reduced to a stuttering mess, Hansol looks like the most innocent, vulnerable, harmless human being that ever existed, and undoubtedly one of the cutest betas on the market.  
  
“Seungkwan?”  
  
“... what.”  
  
“Is it okay if I’m crushing on you?” he asks one evening, as they sit on the cold ground of the soccer field after an incredibly tiring match ended, almost as usual, in a tie.  
  
Seungkwan shrugs, not a glance spared in his direction. “I’m going to break your heart,” he acknowledges, emotionless and completely disinterested, even when his own skips a silent beat.  
  
“I think you already did,” Hansol pouts and playfully kicks him in the knee.  
  
“It’s only fair, since you almost broke my face.”  
  
“But I can kiss it better.”  
  
“Try that and the next thing I’ll make sure to break will definitely be your balls.”  
  
And Seungkwan feels good, really _good_ , because in that moment he knows he has Hansol in the palm of his hand.  
  
It feels even better when he humps the pillow, much later at night, with his right hand firmly wrapped around one of the hardest erection he’s ever felt in his entire life, smothering every needy moan in the rustling, tangled sheets beneath him. He tries to think of warm, toned thighs spread open and wrapped around his waist, fingers threading through his sweated hair, tugging, pulling, and soft lips open in shameless sobs, cries, pleads.

He tries as hard as he can, but when he comes in a choked scream there are just hands pushing on his back, pressing his frantic chest against the mattress, and hips grinding impatient on his ass with unmatched strength. His body is shaking so badly, in the aftershock of his mind-blowing orgasm, that for a moment Seungkwan fears he’s triggered his own heat. He lays there, still, on his unmade bed, looking at the ceiling until any concern dissolves into a silent laughter.  
  
He feels so safe that the next morning the pills remain at home for the first time in five years, forgotten.

He never thought he could fit that well with a stranger, not when he’s always been the type of boy who used to solve problems and respond to any kind of approach with at least one act of physical violence.  
  
But sometimes he peeks at Hansol, and he watches him laugh out loud about some stupid thing that one of his friends is ranting about, swept away by the overwhelming hilarity. It’s during moments like these that he finds himself lost in thoughts, wondering if an idiot of such rare kind isn’t maybe a stranger at all. And that maybe – just _maybe_ – he could even probably open up a little more, putting aside fears and worries.  
  
Maybe he should.

* * *

  
  
“I hate alphas.”  
  
There’s a soft chirping in the air, echoing low in the thick, glimmering, newborn fronds above their heads, and Seungkwan’s breath smells like strawberry once again, huffing lightly, tired, against the damp fabric of Hansol’s shirt. He scored his third goal in a row before they both fell down on the ground with exhausted laughs.  
  
From down there, everything’s peaceful. Even his mind.  
  
“… why?”  
  
He’s been expecting that question. He’s prepared himself for it, for the worst that could possibly happen, but in that moment he’s so incredibly comfortable stretched out across his friend’s stomach that for the first time after months of anxious, restless inner mumbling, his head feels finally calm, almost pacified.  
  
“I don’t want-” his voice snaps. He has to breathe in, deeply. “I can’t fucking stand them,” he then slurs with venomous annoyance, but he hopes that the other can understand him without digging too much into it.  
  
Hansol, on the other hand, is silent. He doesn’t even hum in approval, or maybe simple understanding. He stays still, sprawled underneath him, on the soft, emerald green grass of the field, breathing heavily for the fatigue.  
  
“I’m sorry,” something clenches in Seungkwan’s throat. “Don’t mind me, I’m just fucking tired.”  
  
“Did someone… did you get into a fight with an alpha, maybe?” it’s the tentative, following question.  
  
“Yeah. More than once,” Seungkwan closes his eyes. Hansol’s heart’s pounding fast against his ear. “I started getting into fights at kindergarten. Maybe I’ve met only damn assholes for my entire life… maybe they’re _all_ assholes. All of them. I don’t know.”  
  
Hansol’s breath stops for a second. “I know some alphas,” he mutters, quite, to himself. “Back in New York. They’re good friends of mine. Only one is a daredevil, the others look pretty nice. Less than you anyway, Seungkwan. You’re much worse than all the alphas I know, I swear.”  
  
“… me?” he scoffs, turning on his stomach. The following words end up muffled in Hansol’s shirt. “Well I’m glad I am. I’ll fucking break them to pieces, if they ever try to mess with me again.”  
  
“Fierce,” he sighs, but Seungkwan can feel the ghost of a smile against his exposed nape.  
  
“I’m not-” _an omega_. The lie almost flees from his lips. “I won’t be tamed that easily.”  
  
“You won’t ever be tamed, Seungkwan. You’re wild.”  
  


* * *

  
Sometimes he looks at those big smiling eyes and dreams of deep crimson sparks blooming in the dark, small matches lighting up the already so warm hazelnut of those irises as they set his soul ablaze. Foolish thoughts, he’s fast at dissing them as soon as Hansol turns around to flash him one of those idiotic smiles, but he still chews his bottom lip, pensive, as if tossing away the chance might be heavier than expected.  
  
“You know what’s hard?” Jihoon goes soon back into the fray. “ _Changing_. Changing is fucking hard.”  
  
Seungkwan rolls over the wooden floor instead of focusing on his last assignment. “What do you mean?” he asks, even if his mind is not there to listen to any proper reply.  
  
“… that I really, _really_ , want to bend over one of those fucking bastards instead of dropping on all fours in front of them and taking it like a bitch. But _nobody_ understands me. Not even you.”  
  
Looking up to the ceiling with a long, deep breath, Seungkwan shuts up for a while. His chewing gum has already turned tasteless and stiff in his mouth.  
  
“It’s hard wanting to ruin the fucking system,” he agrees in the end.  
  


* * *

  
There are moments when he thinks it doesn’t even exist, that system. Others, on the other hand, he doesn’t only substantiate its painfully obvious existence but he also clearly perceives he’s part of its lowest, darkest, pitiful depths. Sometimes he believes he can truly get away with anyone or anything, and others he feels like nothing but walking food – succulent, hot, steamy food that could be smelled from miles away –, and that’s when he understands Jihoon the most.  
  
The last week of spring of his second year he’s being pinned to the wall by a giant freshman – a very perplexed and uncertain one too, by the look of it, or maybe just a dumb novice –, and there’s nothing left for Seungkwan to do but teach him some well-deserved manners by kicking his sorry ass all the way out in the open.  
  
His sister isn’t that helpful too, when she suggests he should simply cut it out with all those suppression hormonal treatments, since she believes it’s because of them that Seungkwan’s always been so damn cold and aggressive and pretty much over the edge every single day of his life, and he wishes he could explain to her, in the most civilized way, that no, it’s not like that, it really has nothing to do with those little fruity pills, and that his hatred towards the fucking dominant scumbags of their society is justified by much deeper reasons, but in the end he’s only able to retort with a tired, uncaring grunt. She’s nothing but a cute, random, tasteless common beta, anyway. She could never understand the pain he has to go through to maintain a good level of dignity and self-respect.  
  
It’s a reflex. Every move, every look, every crooked, dubious smile or tentative gaze cast on him sets his restrained anger on fire, and for him it’s always been like that since the dawn of time. It’s the _knowing_ ones who drive him insane the most. It’s those who look at him _searching_ for something, those fucking assholes. It’s those who sniff the air around him, trying to catch a proof, a scent, a damned green light on the sound of “come on knot me if you dare” before hovering on him like he’s a damn defenseless prey. Those… those are the worst of the worst. Those deserve to die by his hands.  
  
“Did you know that when you get angry and start kicking some ass you become like… at least ten thousand times hotter?” Jeonghan voices that thought one late summer afternoon, and he can barely mutter an immediate apology before Seungkwan turns around and _growls_ at him like he wants to claw his throat.  
  
Soonyoung’s the one scoffing without care, as usual: “I still believe that all he needs is to get fucking laid.”  
  
And it sucks.

* * *

“The best thing about attending the same university is that I can bother you all day long.”  
  
Jihoon’s cough sets off loud and clear. “… and now I already feel like dropping out.”  
  
“What do you mean? I thought you couldn’t wait for me to join your exact same university.”  
  
“I’d fucking rather set myself on fire, trust me.”  
  
“Yes, that’s the passion of our love. _Blazing_.”  
  
“I’m going to murder you.”  
  
“Oh, shut up. Both of you,” Seungkwan growls, threatening, as he holds back the need to stab at least one of them with his chopsticks.  
  
“I’m not shutting up,” Soonyoung rises a pair of overly determined eyes from his lunch. “The whole point of my existence is talking, talking, and talking, and making sure that I ruin your sanity at least once a day. On that beautiful note, where’s Hansol?”  
  
Munching his lunch couldn’t get any more tedious and annoying, now. “Why should I know?” he asks.  
  
… may the day _rhey_ decided to enroll in his university be cursed for the rest of eternity.  
  
“Because he’s family. You should always know where he is and what he’s doing.”  
  
Of course. Why not.  
  
“… if Hansol is family, then Jihoon is your lovely wedded wife,” he retorts, deadly.  
  
Soonyoung stops for a second, rice lifted in middle-air right in front of his open mouth, as he blinks a couple of times with a glint of perplexity, Jihoon muttering a soft "shut up" under his breath. “Him? Oh… yeah. Actually, now that you’re reminding me, he really is,” and he chews, happy and uncaring. “So, let me repeat the question: where’s your hus-”  
  
“Soonyoung.”  
  
“Where’s the fuck that you’re saving for your first night of marriage?”  
  
“I swear to god-”  
  
“Where’s your holy mating material?”  
  
“I give up.”  
  
“If you’re talking about Hansol, I think he’s busy dealing with another love confession,” Jeonghan appears magically behind Jihoon’s back, tray in his hand and a cunning smirk already brightening up his face. “You know… _spring_. I think that at least half of his fan club is in heat as usual, except for the one and only person he really wants. Oh, hi,” and just like that he sits right in front of Seungkwan. “I was totally not talking about you, by the way. Really. Don’t even mind me.”  
  
“Don’t talk about heat,” Jihoon snarls, death now glimmering in his black, bulging eyes. “Don’t you fucking talk about heat, or I’ll cut you.”  
  
“Hi, Jihoon,” Jeonghan leans towards the latter, so close that for a moment it seems like he wants to dip his nose into the other’s hair, mewling with devious affection. “Are you feeling all the love in the air, as usual?”  
  
“I feel your breath,” he cuts him off, murderous, “which smells like rotten rats, by the way.”  
  
“You smell good too, darling,” Jeonghan sighs one of his most dreamy sighs. “Wanna hang out at your place? I’m free this afternoon.”  
  
“Hey. Don’t leave me out of the party,” they’re immediately joined by another, this time much deeper, amused voice. “And if you cut me off like last time I’m going to howl outside your house for the rest of the week.”  
  
“No one is going to come over today _for the love of god_ ,” Jihoon repeats with much more anger now, shifting stiffly on the seat just to distance himself from the two of them. “And if you dare howl in front of my house, the only thing I’m seriously going to cut off are your small dry testicles, Mingyu.”  
  
The grunt sounds deep and resigned. “But I really wanted to try an omega out, at least once.”  
  
“Excuse me. No.”  
  
“How about you, Seungkwan?”  
  
“Leave me fucking out of this,” he shivers just at the mere idea before glaring hard at him. “And lower your fucking voice, thank you.”  
  
“Yeah, leave him out of this, he’s already booked for a giant dick,” Soonyoung’s fast at coming to the rescue. Too bad that with those inexplicably necessary words the only thing he saves is Seungkwan’s murderous intent.  
  
“… is he?” Jihoon’s skeptical frown is directed to his friend and neighbor, this time, which makes Seungkwan’s eyes rise towards him in utter, speechless disbelief.  
  
“Do I even have to specify that you must not fucking listen to what that freaking idiot says?!” he exhales, stunned.  
  
“You being glued to Hansol’s hip half of the times doesn’t exactly help me distrust him, ok? Even if I want to distrust him really badly, especially right now,” Jihoon insists.  
  
“By the way, when do you think you’re going to tell him?” Soonyoung butts in in the blink of an eye, shoving with stubborn curiosity his elbow in Seungkwan’s ribs.  
  
“Tell him _what_ ,” he tries to punch him back, but the other has anticipated his every movement and he meets only thin air. “That I buried your corpse in my backyard? That’s still in progress.”  
  
The look Soonyoung gives him, this time, is completely blank and emotionless. “I was going to say that you secretly love me more than you’ll ever love him, but since you’re being such a bitch today I think I’ll move on to the next question,” he clears his throat. “So. When are you going to tell him that you’re a very needy, whiny, bitchy and bossy omega?”  
  
There’s some sort of seriousness in his friend’s voice. He doesn’t quite comprehend it, along with the piercing glare that immediately follows and tries to burn through his skull, so he resolves simply into stepping on Soonyoung’s left foot underneath the table, one time, hard and good and brutal.  
  
“How many fucking times,” he mutters, teeth gritted as he watches Soonyoung falling apart and writhe in strangled pain, “have I already told you that we _don’t fucking talk about that._ ”  
  
“Not enough,” Jeonghan lets out a satisfied groan at that sight. “Maybe you should repeat it one more time. _Aloud_.”  
  
“And punch him in the nuts too,” adds Mingyu, munching with clear gratification.  
  
Soonyoung’s sobbing. “You fucking _traitors_ -” he chokes, face reddened by the pain.  
  
He’s never been that good at handling all of them, even less all of them at once in the same freaking time, hence Seungkwan decides that there’s nothing left there but standing up from the table with one last exasperated sigh, unable to bear any longer that extreme, agonizing, concentrated source of stupidity. “You know what? I can’t stand any of you,” he declares, unmoving. “I’m out of here. Don’t even look for me, if you care for your life.”  
  
“Wait, what- _you’re leaving me here?!_ ” Jihoon shrieks in horror.  
  
“You think I care?” he lifts an eyebrow at those words.

* * *

Minghao’s usually the one he seeks refuge to whenever his nerves are at the verge of breakage – along with all that remains of his self-composure. One of the few things he’ll be forever thankful to Hansol, in this brief spawn of a lifetime, will always be that little piece of heaven he brought along as his best friend. Capable of equalizing every daily dose of dumb with his warm presence, Minghao’s become in the past two years that silent, cute and gentle company who can help him endure those massive dickheads, and it’s in moments like this that Seungkwan needs him the most.  
  
He’s looking for him, and just him alone, therefore he’s kind of taken aback when he finds him by the entrance of the hall with whom seems to be Hansol standing right by his side. Seungkwan hesitates for a second, then he smiles softly to himself.  
  
Two birds with one stone.  
  
“Hey, guys,” he approaches them, peaceful, and he finally brightens up after almost half an hour of complete _hell_.  
  
Two pairs of eyes spring immediately in his direction, wider and much more startled than expected, as if his friendly but unplanned presence has completely taken them by surprise. Seungkwan can almost feel their initial jitteriness crawling on his own skin, even when they immediately fall back to their usual selves, and it feels pretty damn unusual for both of them.  
  
“… is everything okay?” he asks, even if he reciprocates Minghao’s smile.  
  
“Oh, yeah,” the boy answers instantly. “Just trying to comfort our Hansol, over here. You know, he finally has a date.”  
  
And it’s Seungkwan’s turn to open his eyes, wide and shocked, at that stunning announcement.  
  
“What?” his jaw hangs open for a moment as he finds himself at a loss for words. “ _What?!_ ” he finally turns his attention to the one who’s actually involved, only to meet what seems to be something between a grimace and a damn unsure smile.  
  
Hansol looks anything but certain about this. “… yeah,” he clearly struggles, refraining himself from saying too much. “It was time, I think.”  
  
“You _think?_ ” Seungkwan would laugh right at his face, if only the other didn’t look so incredibly insecure about the whole deal. “What do you mean? You like her, no? Who is she?”  
  
“One of my year,” Minghao replies on Hansol’s behalf.  
  
“… why do you look so out of it, then?” Seungkwan insists, piercing through Hansol’s blank face. “Dude, you’re getting laid!”  
  
“Yeah, that’s- I don’t know, I’m just trying it out. She’s nice,” he shrugs, eyes slipping away in the opposite direction. “I-I gotta go, anyway. I’m sorry,” and he slowly steps backwards, through the open door of the atrium. “I’ll see you tomorrow!”  
  
Seungkwan stands still by Minghao’s side, watching him run away in a hurry before he gets a chance to elaborate what’s really happening or even say goodbye. And he kind of feels like an idiot, because there must be something going on, here and now, that he hasn’t quite grasped in time. He’s already trying to move, chasing after him before Hansol exits the gates of the campus, when Minghao’s grip wraps around his wrist to stop his swift movement, and he’s forced to spin around with an overly confused frown painted on his face.  
  
“Don’t follow him.”  
  
“What?” he blinks, perplexed.  
  
“Don’t follow him,” Minghao repeats, huffing tiredly at his attempt to release himself. He still smiles at him, though, with his usual, soft kindness. “He’s just not feeling that good, today. He told me he wants to be left alone for a while.”  
  
Seungkwan stares at him. “… there’s something going on, isn’t it,” he asks with final, sharp certainty.  
  
“He texted me before I found him here with that girl. He’s just a bit sick, that’s it. Nothing major.”  
  
This information is only capable of confusing Seungkwan even more, as he couldn’t smell any kind of disease, nor simply a spark of it, during the brief chat they just shared, but he accepts the fact that his nose may have betrayed him thanks to the intense mixture of scents in the close surroundings. Spring is never a good time to completely rely upon the sense of smell, he has to admit.  
  
“Then I’m going to his place, this evening,” he resolves after a brief moment of indecision.  
  
Minghao’s face twists a little in disagreement. “That may not be a good idea. When Hansol wants to be left alone, he could even shut the door on your face,” and he pats him lightly on the back, trying to reassure him about it.  
  
“Well, Hansol lives alone and for all I know he could run a fever or something even worse. Anyway, it’s still better to check out on him, at least once, to make sure that everything is ok.”  
  
“… yeah, he’s definitely going to slam that door on your face.”  
  
“Well. Then I guess I’m going to kick it open.”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Vernon so much, and a bitter, angry Seungkwan makes me happy lol.


	3. Chapter 3

There have been other moments, during the vast amount of time spent together in the last two years of his life, when he’s showed up to Hansol’s place. Sometimes with Chan and Soonyoung, maybe for a late night drink or simply casual chats about life and studies, and various other times when it was just the two of them, moments when he felt like he couldn’t live Hansol alone within those tight four walls, away from family and friends.

After living abroad for so long, Hansol was the type of guy who didn’t particularly enjoy the indoor life. Seungkwan soon found out that it was more probable seeing him play around in the park, alone, reading and researching stuff in the library, going through bars and pubs and game centers, rather than witnessing him spend some time in that tiny, empty flat of his own. Home was, for the boy, one simple roof underneath which he could safely sleep, or a bed ready to welcome him whenever he felt sick, tired or gloomy. Staying indoor was a good option only when friends were coming over, either to drink, have dinner or play around mindlessly until it was too late to function.

And still, no matter what, there were probably times when friends shouldn’t even bother coming.

Times like this, for example.

When Hansol unlocks the door of his apartment, Seungkwan thinks he’d be welcomed by the sight of a pale, exhausted and pretty much sick friend in need for help or company. What truly finds him waiting behind that creaking opening is, an immediate, dark, scolding frown.

“… what are you doing here?” Hansol slurs, dull and somehow forcefully cautious.

“Just checking on you,” Seungkwan squints as he tries to check his complexion out. “Are you alright?”

His hair’s damp and ruffled, thin strands of dark blond bangs falling on puffy and tired eyes, suggesting that he probably just stepped out of the shower. It either looks like he’s been crying a little – maybe holding back his tears, that’s more of his style –, or like he’s been running a cold. It could be allergy too, since during spring, pollen is all over the place and literally everywhere, but Seungkwan doesn’t remember Hansol being affected by them during last year’s blooming season.

“I’ve been better,” Hansol clearly forces a reply out of his mouth, words heavy on his tongue, but doesn’t move of a single inch from where he’s standing. “Don’t worry, it’ll go away.”

And this only makes Seungkwan frown even deeper. “What will go away, exactly? Are you having some kind of allergic reaction to… something? If you need help… I mean, I’m here. You know.”

“Yeah. I can see that. But you don’t need to, really. It’s nothing, Seungkwan.”

“Well… since it’s nothing, you surely won’t mind that I’ve already bought dinner,” he lifts the bag with light nonchalance, pushing it against the frame of the door to force it open. “I’m going to cook you some juk.”

“Seungkwan-”

“… unless you tell me that I can’t come in because you have a beautiful naked nurse in your bed. Then I’ll walk away and leave you to your business.”

A first, cheerful laugh escapes Hansol’s mouth, and Seungkwan’s heart can finally skip a beat, shaken by relief. He smiles back at him, at those eyes that arch happily at him for the first time that day, and steps into the flat as soon as the door squeaks on its hinges, opening completely in front of him.

The initial thing that Seungkwan perceives as he walks in is now a much stronger fragrance. Hansol usually uses a fresh cologne to softly perfume the rooms, something so light that even Seungkwan, from time to time, could barely smell over the distinct trails of his friends’ natural body scents, or even the mixture of food shared between them.   
This time, though, it’s way stronger, almost prickly, sharper and colder, and kind of… better. It really does smell better in any way. Seungkwan gulps at the realization, as a tiny voice has already whispered “enticing” in his ears, and he immediately has to smother that thought with all of his strength, because no. No way in hell.

“I’m sorry for the smell,” Hansol excuses himself, since he noticed the way he had wrinkled his nose. “I dropped a phial of perfume half an hour ago. I tried to clean it, and I opened every window too, but it still hasn’t gone away.”

“It’s okay,” Seungkwan reassures him with a light shrug. “You know that I like it.”

Hansol laughs. “Then you’ll like it even more when I tell you that my flat smelled like rotten flesh, this afternoon. The meat I kept in the fridge was completely spoiled. I almost puked when I got home, my sense of smell is fucking all over the place today.”

Seungkwan’s steps slow down against the wooden floor, unsure, careful. “… what do you mean?” he asks, eyes rising along the smooth back of Hansol’s shirt.

Hansol turns around just to flash him a perplexed glance as he bats his wet, dark eyelashes with a glint of confusion. “What?” he stutters for a second, looking particularly dumbstruck at that question.

“Do you have trouble with your sense of smell?” Seungkwan inspects as soon as he reaches his side.

“Well, I think you have some trouble too, no?” he looks sincerely uncertain. “I know that you have a sharp nose. And even sharper than mine, for this kind of things.”

It’s just a moment, a fleeting second, but Seungkwan’s not entirely sure if his heart is still beating in his chest or if it sank into the deepest pit of his gut.

“I didn’t know you felt that way,” he breathes. “Is this why you’re sick, today?” he stops himself from inhaling in that precise moment, because there’s now a strange, dense, freaking tight coil of fear clawing him from within his chest.

Then Hansol’s eyes grow wide, like he’s just realized why a couple of shades of pink seem to be missing on Seungkwan’s face. And that’s when he smiles even wider, almost amused, casting out every kind of apprehension that has grown so abruptly in the other’s head.

“I don’t feel too well, that’s all. And why do you even smell like…” his pause shakes every bone in Seungkwan’s body, too abrupt and unforeseen. “Are you frightened?” he wonders, frowning with pleasant surprise.

“… n-no?” Seungkwan huffs forthwith, as a shaken laugh escapes his lips at those dangerously blunt words. “And of what, anyway? Of you, maybe?” he glances down Hansol’s body like he has no value or power at all, especially over him.

Hansol shrugs without care. “I don’t know,” he retorts in a low voice. “Maybe?”

Seungkwan moves away and he steps forward, to the kitchen. “Then stop sniffing me, it’s fucking annoying,” he demands, peering briefly in his direction before motioning to him. “Do you feel like you can help me cut the pumpkin, or are you better off on the couch?”

“I’m slightly ill, Seungkwan, not dying. And I’m not that hungry too, just so you know.”

“Wonderful. That’s why I’m here, darling. To force you to eat,” he drops the bag near the counter, ready to empty it and begin the preparation for their dinner. “You won’t get better with an empty stomach, I can assure you.”

After shuffling by his side in search for a couple of knives stored in the drawer, Hansol’s fast at joining him by the stove. “What if my illness has nothing to do with the stomach, though,” he adds.

The smile comes easy.   
“… if that’s the case, then you’re simply not ill at all and you’re just fucking with me,” Seungkwan replies with sharpness, even if he’s trying not to laugh at the face his friend’s making. “What is it, a headache? A heatstroke? Come on, I’m the one who’s freaking hungry, give me a pot.”

That moment of insane, unexpected fright is already vanished, erased from his memory. As he casually recalls it in the back of his mind, Seungkwan can’t help but feeling incredibly dumb because of it.   
He’s let the doubt overcome him for something so tiny and irrelevant, so damn trivial, a handful of words devoid of meaning that slipped away in the wrong moment, but on the other hand he can’t possibly blame Hansol – innocent, ingenuously cute beta Hansol – for being naturally over the edge today and, as always, in this particular time of the year. Seungkwan can only hope that he doesn’t ask furthermore, leaving that awkward shadow of a conversation behind. Glancing underhand in his direction, he observes how his friend clumsily washes the pumpkin in the sink before placing it down on the cutting board.

They’ve shared dinner before, too many times to count, but not that often at Hansol’s place and all by themselves. Usually Chan and Soonyoung are always around, within arm reach, therefore it’s much noisier, louder and livelier. However, Seungkwan might even say that he likes this better.   
He likes taking care of Hansol, in some sort of way, he likes ordering him around without having to bear Soonyoung’s sarcastic or sexual remarks at any given moment, and he likes how they seem to fit so well even simply by standing next to each other, in silence, working side by side for something that in the end they’re going to share.

He’s filling the pot with rice when he looks back at Hansol and checks out how he’s doing with the knife. Not too well, actually. He seems particularly stiff and unskilled.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” he decides to nudge him, smile warming up his previously too damn serious expression, just to shake him out of it.

Hansol blinks for a moment, confused, and he finally reciprocates with a content grin. “Having my personal chef for the evening?” he wonders, going back to cutting with slow, awkward movements. “I’m not that satisfied with the service, I must say. I should not be doing this if you were a professional.”

“Well, if you intend to starve yourself you can put down that knife. Still, just so you know, I have no intention to let you do that. I’m the one in charge over here, like you said.”

Hansol’s laugh is kind of tired and nostalgic. “My mom would be so proud if she could see me right now. She would bow to the ground to thank you for forcing me into this.”

“Do you miss her?” and he immediately feels like the dumbest man alive for asking such a question, when the answer is already so incredibly obvious. “You always look so cheerful that I can’t imagine you being homesick. Not too much, at least.”

“I don’t miss home, honestly. Not so much. Well, I kind of do, obviously, especially when I have nothing to do during the day. I just miss my childhood… and not having responsibilities. Like having to prepare my own dinner, for example.”

“Oh, the nice stuff.”

“Yeah, but living far away and on my own has its advantages too,” he sniggers. “You know, like taking girls home whenever I get the chance.”

Seungkwan almost choughs on his own spit. “… you liar. You fucking liar, I don’t remember seeing you do any of that stuff in the last two years,” he remarks.

“Just because you didn’t see me, it doesn’t mean that I didn’t do it.”

“Oh, so now you’re telling me you have a sexual life of some sort?” his eyebrows rise in disbelief.

“… and just because you rejected me, it doesn’t mean that everybody else does,” Hansol insists, now even more full of himself.

“Are you really going to tell me that you getting a date, like today, is something that happens very often? Because I don’t recall you being a player.”

“Hey, you know that everybody loves me.”

“You cocky idiot,” he tries to stomp on his left foot, but Hansol shuffles away right in time with a loud, cheerful laugh, so bright and happy that Seungkwan’s heart seems to clench painfully at its sound, even if just for only a brief second.

A laugh that’s immediately cut off by a sudden gasp.

And a hiss of pain.

The knife hits the kitchen floor with a metal thump, landing safely in the empty space between them, as Hansol trips and stumbles with his back against the counter. It’s not a loud crash, but the utter silence that has already fallen in the room makes it seem much bigger.   
Seungkwan stands there, dazed, frozen, trying to understand what the hell just happened, and his eyes roam in that tight space to get at least a clue. Then he hears him curse, this time loudly, and when his sight flicks in Hansol’s direction it’s instantly caught by a droplet of dark cerise running down a pale wrist.

“… did you just-” he can’t finish the sentence, struck by the pained and confused glare that the other sends him.

Hansol sighs, already forcing a frustrated smile on his lips. “Shit- it’s nothing,” he says.

“How the hell did you do it,” Seungkwan steps forwards to pick up the knife from the floor, and therefore he grasps the chance to examine Hansol’s hand from up close.

“Well you were going to step on me, so I-”

“You panicked? Like that?” Seungkwan anticipates him. He’s smiling, now. Smiling at his usual idiocy. “Wow, you’re such a mess.”

“Well next time don’t hit me when I’m telling the truth!”

“What are you even- look there, you’re bleeding!”

“It’s just a small cut. I’m telling you, it’s nothing.”

“Then why the hell are you standing there like an idiot and doing nothing about- damn it, you have to suck it, Hansol.”

Hansol’s eyes are blown wide. “I have to- what-”

“I said suck it.”

“I think I’m-”

“Dear fucking god, you idiot-” he breathes out with final resignation, closing the distance between them once and for all.

What hits Seungkwan at first is not the flavor, nor the texture – that liquid, warm, velvety sensation spreading against his palate with its peculiar metallic aftertaste as soon as his mouth closes around that finger. He’s too used to those details to let them get his attention. He’s learned to rewind them from time to time, whenever the chance to taste his own blood rose through pain and tears.   
It’s not even the consistence of Hansol’s digit, the left index, tracing slowly the hot surface of his tongue as he sucks it with a glint of uncertainty, or the sudden shudder that he perceives running through that body for his unexpected move. He can feel Hansol’s breath hitching in the almost complete silence, being taken away by his first, tentative suction with a strangled cough, a whimper so firmly held back that Seungkwan almost wants to plunge the teeth just to hear it louder.

It’s the breath that comes next, brushing lightly against his dark bangs in a soft caress. It’s that low breath, unbearably hot, long and deep, blowing with clearly constricted frustration on the flushed skin of his cheekbones, that makes all of Seungkwan’s senses flicker for a brief moment, just a mere heartbeat, before lighting up abruptly after what’s been an entire life of hibernation.

Hansol’s hand moves, trembling finger twisting underneath his tentative tongue, as a powerful grip clasps around Seungkwan’s jaw, clenching and pulling, forcing his head to rise, and that’s when he realizes it’s not just a sensation. That’s when knowledge hits him, and hits him hard, good, with breathtaking, excruciating strength. That’s when the entire room ignites around him in a clash of clear and unmistakably bright perceptions, an explosion of colors that he never sensed before.

“Seungkwan.”

A constricted moan rumbles in the lowest pit of his throat, forcing his self-control to the limit.

“… you fucking idiot.”

It’s a growl.

A low, breathless growl, so dark and husky despite the usually warm and juvenile tone of Hansol’s voice, that doesn’t even seem to belong to him.

The finger slips out of his mouth, warm and slick, but the taste of blood doesn’t leave him.

Seungkwan knows. He knows why Hansol’s holding his jaw so firmly now, with such unmovable, painful force, as much as he knows why all the scents filling the room have seemed so appealing from the moment he’s stepped past the front door. He knows that Hansol’s speaking the truth.

Yes. He’s an idiot.

He’s a complete, utter, undisputable fucking idiot.

He feels like he should try to talk, or at least exhale just a couple of stuttering words in his own defense, but Hansol’s grip is blocking his jaw with such roughness that nothing leaves his throat but a small, choked whimper. 

“… you tell nobody, okay?”

His gaze rises from the collar of that azure shirt, up, over Hansol’s exposed collarbones.

Those eyes have never been darker. They’re pitch black, now, cold and impenetrable, of the same thick, dusky ink that paints the night sky during the blossom of the new moon.

“Seungkwan,” he pushes him back, forcing him away from the counter with slow steps as the fingers dig into the tender, burning hot flesh of his cheeks, “I said you tell nobody, am I clear?”

“… tell nobody what,” Seungkwan finally hisses in response, and he grabs Hansol’s wrist with the same abrupt force, shaken, to at least try and break free. “That you may be feeling the heat season too?” he hints. A cunning grin tries to make its way on his lips, but it fades away immediately.

“I fucking dare you,” Hansol mutters before spontaneously pressing his own trapped wrist against Seungkwan’s lips. “Try me. Come on, try me,” he challenges him. “I know you want to.”

It’s Seungkwan’s fingers, this time, that clasp around Hansol’s flesh, but much harder, to pull him just close enough so that he can slowly caress the warmth of that soft skin with the tip of his nose. And just like that, he closes his eyes. He breathes in, deeply, this time with no intention of drawing back. Truth is that his legs are shaking too fucking hard and his heart has almost reached its breaking point with fast, dangerous and restless thumping, but there’s no way in hell he’s allowing himself to lose his shit right there and right now.

Hansol’s scent is sweeter than expected. He’s always been like a light wave of freshness, a tingling, cold sensation of cleanliness, and most of the times a mixture of peppermint and fresh shampoo sweetened only by a rush of sweat, happiness and adrenaline, especially when they chased one another across the soccer field. But now, while Seungkwan sniffs him attentively, stepping for the first time in his life over the line he had drawn between himself and the rest of the world, he can sense something much sweeter, stronger and definitely more alluring than expected.   
Something that he has feared for all those years, that he tried to escape every single day of his life. It’s the fast pumping of the blood in Hansol’s veins, constricted by his firm grip, that forces a shiver down his spine. It’s the smell of man. The smell of shameless, uncontrollable arousal, that’s already getting in his every bone just by breathing it in. The smell of pure want, need, lust, and an unmistakable desire of dominance.

“… why haven’t you ever told me?” he can barely talk now, voice muffled by an impending sense of anticipation.

“Would it have changed anything?” Hansol counters, harsh, but he doesn’t try to pull away. “Would it have made things different between us?”

“I would have known.”

“I could say the same thing,” he snarls. “I could ask you the same exact question. Why haven’t you ever told me, Seungkwan?”

This is not how things should be, not between them.

His grip strengthens around Hansol’s wrist. “Because that’s supposed to be none of your fucking business,” his reply comes out colder than expected. “Because I’m the only one who has to deal with it.”

“No, damn it, Seungkwan, you’re not,” and Hansol takes advantage of that unmoving clamp to pull him closer, almost against his chest. “You’re not the only one. I have to deal with it too, and you know why. You know it. I’ve told you so many fucking times.”

“And that’s exactly why you should have not known. Ever,” he remarks, trying to take a step backward. “So that it wouldn’t have changed anything about us, about our relationship.”

“… did something change now, maybe? Do you think differently of me because you know what I am? Do you really change your mind so damn easily?” Hansol insists, and for the first time in forever he looks sincerely mad, waspish.   
He’s frowning deeply under those thick, damp bangs, and his eyes shine with unbearable emotion, so intense that Seungkwan’s legs tremble even more underneath its power. “You wanted me to be your little omega, Seungkwan? You wanted me to be even more miserable than this?”

“I just didn’t want for the heat to get between us!” he bursts out in the end, unable to stand that sudden, abrupt loss of strength. It’s excruciating. He can’t bear it, he can’t feel like this. He’d rather stab himself with that same knife instead of going through this conversation. Things were not supposed to go like this. “I didn’t want for you to just… smell me and lose fucking control and fuck everything up just for a stupid… season- god, Hansol, this is wrong, this is so wrong-”

No matter how many steps he’s taken back, Hansol keeps moving forward, closing the distance that appears between them.   
“But that’s the point. That’s the whole point, Seungkwan,” he insists. “I knew everything about you from the start, because I was curious. Because no matter how hard I tried to convince myself that it was not going to work out, I still liked you. Your nature is not what draws me to you. You could have been the common among betas, and I would still be head over hills for you anyway, despite our differences.”

“You just found a date, Hansol, stop with this fucking nonsense,” he cuts him, harsh, without breathing.

Hansol sneers. He’s beyond angry. “Of course I did, I’m not your little puppy.”

“And I’ve never been your master either,” a soft sob escapes his lips, forced out by the hand that Hansol’s closing around his neck. “You… you asshole. I’ve always tried to be your equal. From the day we met… that’s what I’ve tried to do this whole fucking time.”

There’s a glimmer in Hansol’s eyes, a fleeting light that comes back to life at the sound of those words and that makes them possibly even darker. Seungkwan feels his own soul ablaze, slowly burned to pieces by their intense depth, and his whole senses are asking him to fight.

“You’ve always been.”

He doesn’t remember how Hansol’s managed to push him against the stove, but he knows that the knobs feel freaking uncomfortable pressed against his back.

“… what am I supposed to do? What was I supposed to do?” the hand retreats with a slow, gentle caress, warmth imprinted like fire on Seungkwan’s collarbones. Hansol’s stepping back on his own, even if it looks like he’s struggling to do it.   
“I’ve tried to hide it from everyone too, you know? And I’m still trying to hide it, even now, because just the idea of finding myself surrounded by stalking omegas in heat drives me crazy. I’ve tried to stay hidden and come out alive from this adolescence without accidentally winding up mating with the wrong person, maybe just by impulse,” the glint of a smile’s suddenly casted on his lips, only for a second. It’s bitter, though. Bitter and resigned.   
“And then here you come,” his eyes run down Seungkwan’s small frame, “… fucking walking temptation. The only one I actually wanted to open up to. The only one that made me feel like mating was not a bad idea after all. At least before I learned that you have some kind of intense and incurable fucked up alpha-phobia.”

“I don’t have a fucking alpha-phobia,” Seungkwan replies, bleak. “You’re delirious.”

“Am I?” Hansol chuckles. “Honesty’s never been your thing, Seungkwan. You’re so scared of letting nature dominate you that you’d rather swallow useless omega hormonal control pills.”

“Are you running a freaking high fever or something?” he asks, voice painted of cold resentment, but he still rises a hand towards Hansol’s forehead and presses it against his boiling skin, just to make sure.

Hansol sighs in relief at that contact, like he’s been waiting for it. “Worse,” he replies. “Much worse.”

“… don’t do it,” it’s a plead, and Seungkwan despises pleading.

“I’m not doing anything. I can’t do anything,” Hansol’s breath is a call that’s becoming almost irresistible. It’s just too close for his own good. Seungkwan feels it on his dry mouth, tracing imperceptibly its corners in silent, unspoken but terribly clear hunger. If this goes on any longer, if he stays there and breathe that fucking poisonous air, he’s going to lose it for good.

“… I feel like you can, and I fucking hate it,” he finally hisses, one hand placed on the other’s chest to regain some proper distance.

Hansol catches it, instead, but doesn’t step back. “Oh, no,” his smile grows wider. “You’re the only one who has that ability, Seungkwan, and you always use it against me. You bastard. It’s been like this from the day we met, why the hell didn’t you see this coming?”

“I couldn’t. I fucking couldn’t, Hansol, because you hid it from me.”

“But I tried to tell you.”

“I thought you were just hitting on me without any actual meaning!” and he pushes harder, shoving him away one last time. “Your fucking advances don’t look any different from Soonyoung’s or Junhui’s, just so you know. I thought you were playing around like them, I thought it was some kind of dumb… beta thing you all shared, I don’t know-”

“… do I look as dumb as those two, to you?” Hansol scowls deeply for a moment. “Really?”

Seungkwan would almost laugh, if only he felt the slightest amusement. “Oh, if you ask me, you look much much dumber than these two put together,” he adds, venomous.

“You’re cruel, Seungkwan. You’re so fucking cruel.”

“And why, because I’m telling the truth?” he’s slowly gaining ground, now. It’s Hansol the one who has to step back, one inch at a time, fearing for the deadly glow that lights up Seungkwan’s dark eyes. “Because I’m fucking mad at you for being the biggest liar ever? Because I want to beat you up so hard now that I realized I’ve been living in a complete lie?”

“Well then look at me, Seungkwan. Look, and tell me. Be fucking honest, for once,” he suddenly stops, expression turning severe and cold as he recollects a bit of confidence. “Would we be friends, now, if I told you from the very beginning what I really am?”

Predictably, Seungkwan’s gaze lowers with uncertainty, lost and void. He slowly licks his lips, unable to bear their nervous dryness any longer, but doesn’t force himself to look up towards the latter, not once. He can sense it, anyway. He can feel it, the restless, frantic, anxious thumping of Hansol’s heart, strained in anticipation. It’s so damn familiar to him.   
He remembers it.

“… I would have kept my distance,” he finally answers, just a mere whisper. “If I knew you were a fucking alpha, I would have definitely kept my distance. And don’t even try to put the blame on me for my choices.”

“Then don’t fucking blame me, instead. I’ve lied to you because of this, and you know what? I’d lie again,” he retorts. “I’ve lied just to be close to you, to feel accepted when I knew you would have pushed me away otherwise. I didn’t do it because I wanted to trick you, but because you would have never acknowledged my fucking existence.”

“And how about this, huh?” Seungkwan barely lets him finish. “How about this situation? Are you satisfied now, Hansol? Do you feel fucking accomplished now that you got me? Do you feel powerful? Satisfied, maybe? Dominant?”

“I didn’t-” Hansol’s cheeks flush of a stunned shade of red as he winds up gaping in shock. “I don’t have you, Seungkwan. What the fuck are you even talking about. Stop it. You know that I can’t have you.”

“Shut the fuck up, you’re more than aware of what you can do to me right now,” he hisses, venomous, standing his ground for all that’s left. “You know it, and at this point you’re just fucking toying with me to take your damn sweet time. And you know what? You’re spineless, Hansol. You’re fucking spineless.”

“… you want out of here?” Hansol’s eyes narrow as the anger rises. “You think I’m willingly keeping you here, that I would hold your hand to stop you from running out of that door? You can get the fuck out of here if you want it so badly, if you’re so afraid of confronting me. I don’t even care. You’re free to do what you want, I don’t have any control over you.”

Well, that’s fucking hilarious.

“Any?” Seungkwan repeats, and it’s barely a trembling whisper. “Is that so?” he shakes his head. “Are you still trying to fuck with me despite what’s happening? Really, Hansol? Do you think I would fall for it? Are you that fucking stupid?”

Hansol’s looking more and more dumbstruck with every spilled word. “I don’t- what do you want from me, then? Do you want to fight, Seungkwan? Do you want to punch the living shit out of me?” he counters with an incredulous, resigned and particularly grey laugh. “Do you want to beat me up like you did with every other alpha you met, or are you going to open those eyes and notice that I don’t have any interest in fighting with you over something so damn trivial? All I’m asking, all I want from you is just to keep this between us. You want to get out of here? Fine. You’re free to go. Walk out of that fucking door and don’t come in ever again, I’m not stopping you. Just- don’t tell anyone. I don’t want others to know that I’m an alpha, in case you’ve missed this freaking little detail. I don’t even want to quarrel about this anymore, especially with you. And here I thought that you, yes, you, would be the one who could understand me better,” he caresses his forehead, exhausted.   
Blood is still running down his finger, so he accidentally paints its trace without noticing. “Let’s end it here. I’ve always done, and I’m still doing right now, my fucking best. I won’t lose it just because you’re trying to push me over the fucking edge.”

“Oh, so now I’m the one who’s pushing,” Seungkwan steps forward with an aggressive smirk, just to get a better hold of the counter. “Wow, you’re really trying to shove on me all kind of responsibility, aren’t you, you fucking asshole. I came here on the first place because I was worried about you. You know that I care.”

Hansol looks baffled. “Then stop accusing me of being myself!”

“I’ve never accused you of such thing!” he shouts back. “All I’m fucking angry about is you never telling me in the first place! I trusted you, you fucking idiot. I- I got too close to you, because I trusted you. And that’s wrong, Hansol, that’s fucking wrong!”

“… close,” Hansol glares at him so hard that Seungkwan feels like withdrawing immediately. “Too close? Well maybe if you didn’t swallow all those useless fucking pills you could have sensed it long before, Seungkwan, you know? You could have assumed it on your own and do something before we got too close, so that we wouldn’t even be here, now, arguing about this. So that we wouldn’t even have a friendship to ruin to begin with.”

“I don’t- excuse me, I have the right to take all the medications I think are necessary,” he holds on, firm, stubborn, when he notices that Hansol dares to move closer once again. “You can’t judge me for being cautious. I tried my best with all I got, every single day of my fucking miserable life.”

Hansol squints at him with uncertainty, now. And he stops for a second. “No, but… omega hormonal control pills? Seriously, Seungkwan?” he shakes his head. “What the fuck were you even thinking?”

“That I don’t want to be sensed!” he fires back with unmoving obstinacy. “I don’t want to be smelled, I don’t want to be… wanted that fucking way,” and he makes sure to push him back where he belongs, at least a meter away from him. “I’m not a fucking piece of meat, Hansol. I may be at the bottom pit of society, but I’m not a fucking bitch who goes into heat for the likes of you.”

“The likes…” Hansol frowns so deeply, now, that it looks like he’s been slapped across the face by the mere, stunning power of those words “… the likes- the likes of me?” he stutters, dumbstruck. “You mean- I think you mean the likes of us, Seungkwan.”

“No, I-”

“Seungkwan.”

His mouth remains open, this time, and there’s no way he can close it.

Speechless, almost horrified, he gawks at Hansol for what becomes an undefined amount of time, as his body feels like it’s slowly turning to stone with every quiet second passing by. He wants to talk. He feels like he needs to talk, to say anything, to give at least a first, faltering explanation, but not a sound leaves his throat.   
There’s just him, alone with the absolute silence that his gone heartbeat has left behind. Not even the shadow of Hansol’s frame, casted upon the floor, is able to bring him back to reality.

“Seungkwan!”

He’s already running out.

Iced gale blazes and whips his flared up skin, pushing with all of its strength against him in that restless, aimless run.

The night is cold, without stars, and he’s forgot to grab his own coat on his hurried way out of Hansol’s apartment. He’s freezing, he’s sweating, he’s overflown with adrenaline and fear and excitement and what seems to be a deep rush of nausea too. He’s choking. And he’s lost.   
He doesn’t even know where he’s going, how he’s going to get back home from where his feet has dragged him or for how long he’s being running without any clue of time or direction, but he just keeps on going, without a break, putting as much distance between him and Hansol as he can, even if this means flying to the other side of the world.   
By the time his brain seems to start functioning again, he’s long past Mapo Bridge and he’s gazing at the buildings around him like he’s found himself on a whole new undiscovered planet, and he knows he’s almost on the verge of tears.

The night breeze feels like iced snowflakes on his perspired skin. The sound of his own heartbeat, the only thing he can hear. Smells, scents, colors, sounds, voices, steps and distant howls are all swirling around him in a smudged kaleidoscope, an indiscernible mass of things he has never noticed before, and he can’t see shit. He stops for a moment, to catch his short, heavy breath, as he totters towards the closest wall just in case he might need something to hold on to before losing consciousness or puke.

He recognizes this place. Or maybe not. Maybe he’s just hallucinating, maybe he’s already passed out on the cold concrete of the sidewalk, maybe he’s dreaming all of this and he’s going to wake up on a hospital bed wondering what’s his freaking name and why his skull’s broken in half. His teeth clatters, shaken by the cold that he’s still struggling to feel, but his bones shiver for something entirely different. Every single hair on his body is standing straight up in a tingling, numb sensation of distress.

Before he has a chance to realize what’s happening, steps have already brought him in front of a somewhat familiar building and his right trembling hand is repeatedly pressing against a broken doorbell.

Then the door slams open.

“… the fuck- Seungkwan?”

He’s panting. He can’t breathe.

“D- Do-”

“Holy fucking shit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohhh shit, am i right? Some you were really perceptive about Seungkwan so I was excited when delving into this chapter. 
> 
> Anyways, happy 218 bros day, i hope the Seokboo and Verkwan tags are filled for today. Enjoy reading and thank you so much for your comments and kudos ugh.


	4. Chapter 4

“… your place… it fucking _reeks_.”  
  
“Well thank you, that’s so nice of you, really.”  
  
“I’m serious. I can’t fucking breathe in here.”  
  
“Maybe you can’t breathe because you ran at the speed of light in this fucking cold weather from the freaking other side of Seoul? What about that?”  
  
“Or maybe it’s because of me.”  
  
Seungkwan’s barely regained consciousness, kneeled down on the floor of his friend’s cramped flat after his legs had finally given up on him, but he’s still fast enough at flashing his lost eyes in the direction of that unknown voice.  
  
“Hi,” the guy says, resting one shoulder against the frame of door as he scans him with deep, piercing eyes.  
  
“… hi,” Seungkwan answers. There’s already a deep, extremely low growl rumbling at the bottom of his throat. He looks up, glaring at the other like he’s accidentally just stepped into enemy’s territory, and he feels horribly exposed, naked, defenseless.  
  
Clumsy and strained, Moonbin is still trying to lift him up from the floor. “Seungkwan… this is my roommate, Minhyuk. Minhyuk, this is my long lost buddy, Seungkwan,” he moves fast on to the introductions.  
  
There’s no doubt, now. Seungkwan _senses_ it.  
  
“… you… you’re… you’re rooming with a fucking alpha,” he barely breathes, strangled, before letting go of his friendly grip and trying to find support on the scraped white wall of the room.  
  
Beautiful.  
  
Marvelous, indeed. As expected from Moonbin, that usual fucker.  
  
He ran away from a trap simply to fall right into the next one. He must admit, he’s totally done for the day. It can’t get possibly worse than this.  
  
“There’s blood at the corner of your mouth, you know,” Minhyuk adds without that much care, expression still calm and uninterested as he checks him out from a certain distance. “… just wanted to point it out, since you seem so busy caring about my scent to even realize your own conditions. Did you murder somebody, maybe? Is that why you’ve crashed here?”  
  
Seungkwan presses a hand against his dry lips. _Hansol_. His wrist is shaking.  
  
“Seungkwan, what the hell happened? You didn’t start another fight, right?” Moonbin nudges him lightly, trying to shake him out of his haze without causing him to fall on the floor a second time. “Please, tell me you didn’t. It couldn’t- why the fuck aren’t you wearing a goddamn coat?!”  
  
“I don’t… I forgot,” his eyes roam the floor, absent, as he mumbles the reply in a strained undertone, and then his hands are already in his jeans’ pockets, rummaging for the usual small box that regularly saves his day.

He takes it out, snapping the cap open, but as soon as three pills roll in the palm of his hand, Moonbin has already wrapped a firm, immediate grip around his arm to block every further movement. Nothing’s left for Seungkwan to do but to flash him a deadly glare.  
  
“Don’t,” his friend orders, and he’s never looked that serious before. “Seungkwan, _don’t_. Calm down and please, tell me what the fuck is happening.”  
  
“Just let me take these-”  
  
“… are you out of your fucking mind?”  
  
Seungkwan’s wet eyes turn towards the other guy, now; a deadly look of qualm and distrust.  
  
Minhyuk’s stepped forward without his notice, therefore he’s now much closer to them, within arm’s reach.

“I’m going to repeat it,” he adds, “ _are you out of your fucking mind?_ ” and, just like that, he steals the box away from Seungkwan’s sweaty hand. “What the hell do you think you’re doing with these? Trying to poison yourself?”  
  
In an entirely different occasion, a whole new place and time set free from manners and boundaries, Seungkwan would have already kicked him hard in the nuts, only because he dared spare a judgmental look in his direction.

Not now, sadly.

Now he’s frozen on the spot, glued to the freaking floor like crumbling stone hold in place only by the caring hands of a friend, and he’s too busy trying not to hyperventilate or pop a vein to care about what punishment he should dedicate to this fucker.  
  
Silence creeps among them, broken only by Seungkwan’s short, heavy breathing. They’re all waiting for something, the three of them, an answer or a second question, a sigh, a sympathetic nod or friendly pat on the back. Maybe even just a knowing glance, so they can finally dismiss the case and move on.  
  
Then Seungkwan swallows for the first time in what seems like hours, and the aftertaste of blood is still there, in his mouth.  
  
“… I ran away.”  
  
Moonbin takes the pills from his grip.  
  
“I was…” Seungkwan looks down to the floor “… I don’t fucking know. I trusted him, for all this time, and he- I couldn’t even fucking recognize that he was an alpha. _He’s an alpha_ ,” he repeats, again, this time spitting the words out like venom. “I’m a fucking failure. You’re right, those medications fucked my all of my senses up. I should have just grown a pair the first time I felt the heat coming and get over it, instead of doing this to myself. I ruined everything.”  
  
“Hey,” Minhyuk turns towards his roommate, forehead deeply frowned in concern. “You should have told me you befriended psychos, man. What the fucking hell.”  
  
Moonbin’s arm is wrapping gently around Seungkwan’s tense shoulders. “Psychos? Nah, Seungkwanie’s just a little, cute, stressed out wolf who loves to deal with problems by punching the living shit out of them,” he explains, like it’s not even that much of a big deal. “Nothing dangerous at all.”  
  
“… nothing dangerous, huh. Then do you mind explaining why the hell your little, cute, stressed out wolf carries around omega’s hormonal pills in his pockets like they’re freaking candies?”  
  
“I don’t know,” Moonbin shrugs. “He’s… he’s into drugs, maybe? Seungkwan, are you on drugs?”  
  
“I’m on _medications_ ,” he bursts out, along with one deep resigned sigh rolling towards the ceiling. “Moonbin, for fuck’s sake, I don’t do drugs.”  
  
This Minhyuk dude doesn’t seem particularly interested in taking the bait, though. “… you don’t do drugs?” as a matter of fact, he insists. “Are you for real? I mean- excuse my manners, do you seriously believe that? Because to me it looks like something’s completely off with this picture. And by picture I mean you, little, aggressive… _dude_ carrying around stuff like that.”  
  
Seungkwan looks at Moonbin and his eyes beg him to _make it stop_. He’s ran all the way over there to find refuge within the arms of a friend, to get a hold on to reality, to vent all of his confusion and anger and frustration, not to face some unbearably sassy unknown alpha’s sermon trying to decide what’s right and what’s wrong about his life choices.  
  
Moonbin’s nothing but a happy, placid beta who usually wouldn’t notice a thing even when having it shoved right under his nose, but it doesn’t really matter now that even the tiles of the floor can feel all of the electricity charging up in the air.  
  
“Who are you to judge me by the prescriptions I take?” Seungkwan squints his eyes at the other, making sure to express all of his confusion in the nicest way possible. “It’s because of stuff like that that I survive the heat _you_ assholes put me through, you know.”  
  
Minhyuk blinks. Repeatedly.

He gawks at him for a couple of seconds, as his eyes grow extremely, dangerously wide while turning towards his roommate, searching for some sort of approximate explanation. He must have seen a ghost or something. An alien being, maybe. “… Moonbin…?” he mutters slowly to himself, like he honestly fears the consequences of voicing out his real thoughts “… _what the hell_.”  
  
Seungkwan can feel his friend shrugging again, pressed against his left side.  
  
Only one thing’s certain, among all the doubts and insecurities filling the empty space between them: Minhyuk couldn’t possibly frown any deeper than this.  
  
“Look, it’s not that I want to sound inappropriate, or anything like that…” he starts over again, clearing his throat to sound as serious as possible “… and I don’t even know you, so this might be extremely awkward to ask… but I need to know- please, _please_ , can you name me _one_ time you went into heat? Just one.”  
  
And his brain, which should bolt at that question in order to hurriedly scavenge in search of a memory, a moment, a long past sensation able to validate his next statement, shuts down completely.

It’s a black out.  
  
Seungkwan wheezes to himself, looking in the opposite direction.  
  
“Now…” Moonbin stiffens by his side before he lets go of his tense shoulders, “… _this_ is awkward.”  
  
“It’s not awkward. It’s _hilarious_ ,” Minhyuk rectifies. “ _Incredibly_ hilarious, if you ask me.”  
  
“ _You_ \- shut up,” Seungkwan cuts him off, right index pointing straight at him in absolute accusation. “You don’t know me.”  
  
Minhyuk’s smug face looks rudely bold and collected. “I don’t need to know you to see what you are,” he states with the most obvious, natural inclination.  
  
“I’m an omega,” Seungkwan breathes out.  
  
That’s it.  
  
The first time he’s ever admitted it in front of a complete stranger. The first time he’s been proud and concise and blunt about it. The first time he’s stated his nature right in the face of an alpha instead of expressing his conflicted feelings by flying kicks and punches of steel.  
  
“Yes,” Minhyuk smiles back at him, “and I’m Snow fucking White.”  
  
Well, screw what’s left of his dignity.  
  
“I need help,” Seungkwan begs.  
  
“Oh, I know what you need,” Minhyuk’s eyes flick towards his roommate and Moonbin rises an eyebrow with obvious complicity. “Some quality time with your own kind, for a start,” comes the suggestion.  
  


* * *

  
  
“Have you ever heard about the tale of the eagle and the chickens?”  
  
He probably has.  
  
Too bad that Moonbin’s way beyond busy holding a threatening, murderous shoe in his hand instead of replying with a mere monosyllable, a silent nod or maybe even a simple, strangled grunt of doom.  
  
He clears his throat. “There was once this farmer who stole an egg from an eagle’s nest and brought it back to his henhouse. When the egg hatched, the eagle grew among chickens and learnt to act and think like them. You see, the point is… the eagle actually thought – _believed_ – that he was a chicken.”  
  
“… there was once this boy, named Boo Seungkwan,” Moonbin begins, face white as the paint of the room behind him and eyebrows frown as deadly landslides, “whose body was found rotting underneath the ground of Moonbin’s house.”  
  
“Okay. Got the message.”  
  


* * *

  
A week’s gone by from the day this whole new world opened up in front of Seungkwan’s distrustful eyes, and the warm bright sun’s already casting its soft rays over the iced, sleeping earth. Golden buds are on the verge of sprouting free against the piercing blue sky, just like the vibrant energy running through Seungkwan’s veins, wild and free, uncontaminated, begins to raise. It’s been seven days without medications, stupid old tricks or hormonal treatments. Just seven days, and he’s barely starting to feel like himself.  
  
He’s not used to it. He’s not used to this perception, this strange sense of… peace, this promising freedom, but he still feels something blossoming deep within him, something much wilder and savage than its past forms, something- _someone_ who differs and exceeds from his every expectation, and Seungkwan knows he has to take his damn sweet time to get to know him better before putting him in charge of his life.  
  
Jihoon’s locked himself up in his own room for almost the entire time, by now. Seungkwan’s quite certain that it’s not exclusively because of the heat. To his surprise, neither Chan nor Seokmin notice a thing despite spending half of the following days glued by his side, after his every damn step, so that they can taunt and tease and laugh at him and basically annoy the living shit out of him like they’ve always done for the past years.

The only one who seems to perceive _something_ about him is Soonyoung, and it happens by accident too. If it wasn’t for the burning, territorial glare Soonyoung had flashed him when Seungkwan accidentally sent a scrutinizing look at Jihoon’s ass, Seungkwan would still believe that not even him got a single clue of what’s been happening over the last week. It’s not much of a surprise, anyway. Soonyoung’s a downright idiot, but he’s not dumb. He usually sees – and foresees – things, and it’s only natural for him to be the first one to catch the scent of _change_.  
  
Not that they talk about it, specifically.  
  
“A young fellow beta with the punk of an alpha and the needy sexual rage of an omega. I choose well my preys, don’t I, sweet Jihoon” Soonyoung shuffles behind him as Seungkwan’s putting calculus books back on their respective shelf. “Did you even know that Jihoon had a crush on you when he was back in the day?”  
  
Seungkwan’s arched eyebrows speak for themselves. He doesn’t need to turn around, he already knows that Soonyoung’s mischievously glaring at him along with one of his sharpest grins.  
  
“Not that it lasted for long, after I’ve entered the picture. It’s been fun explaining him that lethal teddy bears usually fall for giant dicks instead of adorable little chipmunks. Ah, nature. So beautiful. And the best part is that every single time somebody makes a move on me I’m perfectly sure I’ll be fucked against a wall later.”  
  
“Too much information, Soonyoung.”  
  
“It’s not information, it’s a _suggestion_. You should take it, you know, before somebody winds up mating with the wrong person – and the wrong sex too, in my honest and absolutely correct opinion.”  
  
“I have no interest in girls, lately.”  
  
“Of course not,” Soonyoung sighs deeply. “Because I’m not talking about you. I think it was pretty clear that the focus of our discussion had already shifted towards giant dicks.”  
  
“It’s good that I stopped listening from the wall part on, then.”  
  
“Dickhead.”

* * *

It doesn’t take much longer for his family to notice either.  
  
Apparently, that sudden “ _what am I supposed to do with your coat?_ ” received on his phone after ten whole days of complete silence does strange things to Seungkwan’s overall improving state of mind. As soon as Hansol’s idiotic face flashes briefly on his black lock screen, turning it alive without any previous notice and a low, familiar buzz, he feels a scary rush of blood sluice altogether from his head.

Then there’s some sort of liquid fire crawling beneath his skin, and he knows that there’s a reason why his sister, who’s been standing by the counter of the kitchen for a while now, just let her glass of water fall on the floor.  
  
“… what…?” her voice snaps.  
  
Aaaaand yes. She knows. She definitely knows, now that she’s screaming to catch their parents’ attention, and Seungkwan kind of misses the help of his old little pills more than ever.  
  
He doesn’t give them time to step hurriedly into the room, though, because he’s too busy texting back a fast, immediate “ _coming_ ” and flee from the front door to care about his precious little sister’s mental breakdown. He has definitely much more important stuff to attend than explaining to his family that stuffing himself with hormones for all that time might have fucked up a little his natural physical condition.  
  
Like trying to fix something that he himself may have broken from the start.

* * *

  
Hansol’s smile is tense, restrained, barely a spark of light on his pale face before it dies in an uncomfortable and silent grimace, a resigned pout that prevents him from greeting that rushed arrival. Then again, in that moment, it all becomes crystal clear. It’s all obvious, now, as if his every single move, expression, breath or mere intangible thought became an open book for Seungkwan to read, clear as still, pure water.  
  
Seungkwan doesn’t lower his eyes when regret and embarrassment crawl inside his stomach, twisting and clawing alongside that unbearable sharp apprehension, and he decides to stand his ground instead. His next “ _hi_ ” sounds breathless and croaked.  
  
“So,” fingers drum against the frame of the door, “how does it feel like being something you’ve hated all along?”  
  
“… cathartic,” Seungkwan replies after a moment of silence.  
  
Hansol nods lightly. “Nice,” he adds.  
  
“Hard, actually. But strangely liberating,” he corrects himself with one deep breath. “It’s still all new to me, but at least it makes sense.”  
  
“I guess that at least we won’t end up misunderstanding each other that much during our next fight, then.”  
  
Seungkwan lets out his first laugh. “I don’t want to fight you, Hansol.”  
  
It’s like his eyes are open for the very first time, like he’s never looked at him before or even simply recognized his mere frame, through ripples, shadows and foam. He doesn’t know what it is, but Hansol radiates of a soft glow, a gentle and warm light hardly perceptible with human eyes, and Seungkwan feels it shining through his skin.  
  
“Took you damn long enough.”  
  
Definitely.  
  
“I…” Seungkwan can’t really talk about it. Every single time he tries to word something coherent regarding that matter he ends up laughing at himself or even trying to erase his sorry ass from the universe altogether. “… never mind. It’s too fucking stupid. I can’t… I have no proper excuses to justify my own idiocy. It’s obvious anyway,” he shrugs. “I fucked up.”  
  
“I don’t really blame you. Going on hormones for all those years… I think I would have been in same position as you,” Hansol’s arms cross over his chest. He’s apparently still not going to let him in, though. “Well. Better late than ever, right?”  
  
“What really amazes me is that I think I would have kept going on like that for the rest of my life, if it wasn’t for our last… argument,” Seungkwan hisses, awkward and uncomfortable, before trying his best at flashing him his lightest, earnest smile.  
  
“… if by that you mean keep going on being some sort of fucked up, discriminating racist afraid of being sexually desired or dominated by others, uhm…” Hansol rises his eyes to the late afternoon sky, trying to formulate that concept in the easiest way possible “… you know, coming at peace with your own true nature doesn’t make you any better in this instance. Let’s put it this way. If you actually, truly were a biological omega, how the hell would things be any different between us, now?”  
  
Seungkwan gazes at him, lost, eyes narrowing more and more as the shadows of doubt and cowardly stubbornness rises within him, but he doesn’t dare to break that tense contact. A soft grin crooks his lips.

“They wouldn’t,” he admits in the end. “I still wouldn’t have let you fuck me, that’s for sure. Not even if you had growled at me or tried to make me lose my damn mind by forcing me into heat.”  
  
Hansol smiles at him, even if not the faintest glint of contentment shines on his lips. “See?” he huffs then, like it couldn’t be any easier to explain. “That’s why I can’t, Seungkwan. It’s not only the sex, I swear. It’s you,” and he takes a step back, closer to the door of his apartment.

“Alpha, beta or omega, whichever you happen to be… I don’t give a fuck. You’re still going to be beyond my damn reach. You’ve never even taken my feelings seriously from the start. You laugh at them, and even if I’m thankful of that because you seem to cherish our friendship more than anything else, even above my desires, I can’t allow myself to go on like this any longer.”  
  
“Han-”  
  
“Nope, I’m done,” he shrugs, shaking his head without care. “It’s okay, really. I just need to move on with my life, I can’t possibly spend what remains of it pining after a friend like a fucking idiot. You’re too precious to me to ruin any further what we have, you ass,” and, just like that, he friendly punches him, right in the middle of the chest.  
  
Seungkwan’s breath knocks out of his lungs, shaken, lifeless. He laughs at him, trying to punch back with the same strength, but what his hand seems to attempt instead is getting a hold on to him and prevent distance to grow any further between them. His fist clenches around Hansol’s light shirt like it has a mind of its own, and that’s when he sees those eyes grow darker.

It’s a spark, a shadow so deep and bright it can’t go unnoticed.  
  
“Take your coat,” Hansol reaches behind his back to grab what belongs to his friend. He’s tense. “It’s better if you do. We can see each other tomorrow, at lunch. I’m still a bit too… I’m to off for this, at the moment.”  
  
Seungkwan’s grin turns faint and cold as a hand pushes him away. The door’s already closing on him. “… you’re really not allowing me to crash at your place so that you can finally share all of your dirtiest alpha secrets with me, huh?” he complains, pouting with annoyance.  
  
“Never,” Hansol whispers, devious.  
  
“I thought this could bring us closer.”  
  
“The only way you could get any closer than this to me is by dropping on your knees and choking on my cock,” he firmly stands his ground. “Now go, dumbass. You don’t want to be around an alpha like me during spring. For the umpteenth time: go. It’s not going to end well for you.”  
  
Seungkwan can’t bring himself to admit in time that he really, truly, absolutely does not want to end things well between them. Words tilt from his parted lips, ready to slip away and betray him before it’s too late, but when he breathes in for one final reply the door’s already slamming shut on his face.  
  
His stomach never felt heavier.  
  
  
One, deep sigh.  
  
  
_Fuck that._  
  
  
“Hansol.”  
  
He bangs his fist on the door, hard.  
  
“Hansol, open up!”  
  
It takes only a couple of seconds for the door to disclose Hansol once again in front of him, slow and tentative, as he slurs a breathless curse and glares at him with threatening anticipation, deadlier than ever. Seungkwan can feel his own shoulders going slack along with his strangled, unsure voice, even if his cheeks are definitely going to burst into flames at any given moment, and he knows that he’s way beyond giving the slightest fuck already.  
  
“Okay,” he resolves. “I’ll do it. I’ll suck your cock.”  
  
“… _what the f-_ ”  
  
“Shut the fuck up. Let me in.”  
  
Hansol looks at him like he can’t recognize his friend anymore, jaw hanging loose in shock and eyes bulging out with utter surprise. He’s still trying to spit out a reply, an answer, a dismissing, incredulous and uncaring laughter or even just a mere curse when Seungkwan grabs him by the hem of the shirt and pushes forward, inside of the apartment, but nothing coherent leaves his throat.  
  
Okay. That was undoubtedly rushed. He may be already regretting it, now that the door’s shutting close behind his back and Hansol’s eyes look at him like he’s been facing some sort of murderous ghost.

They’re burning through his skin. He knows he has thrown himself into this without the faintest thought, just like he knows that Hansol’s not going to take the bait that easily, but he’s still not going to back off, not now, not ever again.  
  
“Seungkwan- _this is not funny_ ,” his voice is shaking.  
  
Hands wrap around Hansol’s neck, hurriedly but gently, as he’s shoving him against the closest wall.  
  
“It’s not a game,” he groans. “We’re not playing anymore. I’m done, I swear. Let me blow you.”  
  
Hansol’s face is flaming red, now, gaze lost and glowing.  
  
“W-why would you- why- _you just told me you’d never_ \- are you fucking out of your fucking mind?!”  
  
“No,” Seungkwan replies in an undertone. “No, I’m for real. I’m tired of pushing you away like you’ll always be there ready to catch me again, and I _want_ it. If you’d only kept on running after me forever, maybe I wouldn’t even be here asking you to unzip your fucking pants, but hey, we can’t get everything we want in life, can we.”  
  
Hansol’s gasping, now. He can only ramble incoherent murmurs, too shocked to process what’s really happening.  
  
“You said- you told me- I was _joking_ , you idiot! I didn’t mean to-”  
  
“You didn’t mean it _my fucking ass_ ,” Seungkwan growls at his face, this time, and Hansol’s eyes pierce through his skull like he’s just done something undisputedly outrageous.  
  
“… really?” the shift is immediate. Hansol’s already grabbing Seungkwan’s sweater to push back. “Is that how things work in your tiny twisted brain, Seungkwan? So… if I told you that the only way to get closer to me would be riding my dick, would you be on top of me now, begging to be fucked?”  
  
“Don’t get too full of yourself,” he smirks, one step back at a time. “You’re going to have to do a lot to impress me, if you want to get me.”  
  
“Do I? Sounds like you’re contradicting yourself.”  
  
It should be nothing but an answer, but it undoubtedly falls beyond Seungkwan’s competence. He’s done enough already to fuck up every single piece of dignity left in him, there’s just no way he’s going to nod or even verbally admit that at this point he’s willing to let anything happen just to get over it and get fucking laid.  
  
“Weren’t you the one who told me that I got you in the palm of my hand?” Hansol’s eyes glimmer under the unstyled strands of his bangs, full of uncertainty and expectation. “You’re either a complete headcase or a damn fucking liar who’s going to get what he deserves, sooner or later.”  
  
“… really?” deviousness arches his lips. “And what would that be?”  
  
There’s no answer. One hand flashes on his head instead, unforeseen, and then Seungkwan feels fingers tangling up in his hair with a strong, unforgiving pull, a yank so sudden and harsh that he can’t but let out a pained yelp.

Hansol’s biting his own bottom lip as he pulls him down, glaring at him like he could eat him alive at any given moment, and Seungkwan feels his knees tremble underneath that unmistakable sense of dominance.  
  
It’s the last straw.  
  
“Get down on your knees,” Hansol orders, even if his voice’s shaken and his face’s too damn adorably flushed to be taken that seriously. He’s growling, but his hand’s sweating and trembling.  
  
Seungkwan tries to look up, one brief peek from underneath his ruffled bangs, and that’s the first time he sees it. It’s a blurred, twinkling glow, the dark shadow of deep crimson and autumnal hues mixed together into warm, _warm_ light, and he could swear it never looked that unexplainably good in Hansol’s eyes. It looks exactly as it should have always been from the start, full red moons blooming into the deep, pitch-black, starless sky.  
  
Except that the cerise shade he’s looking at doesn’t belong to no one but Seungkwan himself, because it’s the clear reflection of his own eyes in Hansol’s blown irises.  
  
“You could at least put me in the mood, you know,” he hisses at him, daring. “Eager much.”  
  
Hansol’s expression only grows darker.

“You’re the one who’s playing with fire, Seungkwan. And I’m not going to let you do it without paying the consequences. I already told you, I’m not your toy. You may be ruling my entire freaking mind, but you don’t control me.”  
  
“Good,” Seungkwan whispers seductively, taunting. “That’s good, because I love taking control.”  
  
And he kind of gets it, now, since Hansol growls even deeper when he pins him against the wall like he’s going to crush his every bone. This time Seungkwan needs to bite back a moan to not give in that easily.  
  
“You’re afraid,” Hansol counters as he takes a first, deep breath in.  
  
Seungkwan struggles to hold still despite the need to push back and throw him on the floor. “Fuck you,” he snarls. “I’m a virgin and you’re a boy, of course I’m afraid.”  
  
“Well I’m sorry then, Seungkwan. I won’t be gentle.”  
  
“Who the fuck wants you to be gentle?” Seungkwan’s hand squeezes around the perspired skin of Hansol’s neck, and he’s suddenly overwhelmed by its hot, alluring scent. “Not me, for sur-” he scoffs before his breath winds up caught in his throat, strangled by the sudden hand that’s now clenching so damn hard on his crotch, down below. It’s too fucking much.  
  
Seungkwan’s mouth falls open in a silent cry, eyes shut and cheeks inflamed by the heat.  
  
That’s probably why he can’t notice the doorknob clicking behind Hansol’s back.  
  
Or Soonyoung’s bored slur echoing not that far away, either, before dragged steps halt on the doorway.  
  
“… why do I always have to be the one taking care of your freaking music shi- … uhm… uh. Wow. I mean… hi. Do you… do you need a condom, maybe?”  
  


* * *

  
Hansol steals his first kiss only two days later, slamming him hard enough against the bookshelf to almost knock it down with an epic chain reaction that could have possibly destroyed the entire library. He doesn’t even know how the hell it happens so damn easily.

They simply stumble in each other feet on a Wednesday afternoon as they casually happen to stroll through the crammed bookshelves of the library, coming from opposite directions, and as soon as Seungkwan flashes him his most cunning, knowing smirk, Hansol’s already grabbed his shoulders and pinned him to closest available surface.  
  
He has no idea how he’s been able to wait for this long.  
  
His lips part without resistance after a sharp, staggered intake of air, soft and pliant, allowing it to happen. Hansol’s breath is a mixture of candy, juice and the sweet sweet _sweet_ aftertaste of hungry, unmated alpha. Novels, notebooks, papers, pencils and backpacks fall on the floor in a cascade of soft rustles and thuds, but no fucks are given in that moment.  
  
It’s been more than a day from the moment Seungkwan decided he had enough of running, and even if he always had a flair for hitting around the bush before choosing to end this pain, he’s still starving for kisses. Trying to fix it – trying to go that hard against his own stubborn and excruciatingly coy nature – has already been a hell of a work.

If it wasn’t for Kwon son of a bitch Soonyoung and his damn interruption, at this time he would have probably already been done with it and he surely wouldn’t be gasping for air as he forces Hansol back against the opposite shelf to take control of the situation.  
  
Hansol cups his cheeks and nibbles at his bottom lip, trying to force a moan out of his mouth.  
  
“Are you still in the mood for sucking my dick, or maybe you prefer to rip it off as usual?” he asks.  
  
“That depends on where you try to put it,” Seungkwan replies. “By the way. If you step on my assignment, I’m going to end you.”  
  
“Domineering as always, just how I like it,” and he grabs his chin to take from his wet, swollen lips one more hungry bite.

* * *

_… is it ok if I'm crushing on you?_  
  
Seungkwan peeks at him, stealing a glance at his pale and peaceful outline, caressed by the golden glow of an inflamed sunset, as Hansol takes his time with a deep, slow kiss that’s taking place right in the middle of the whole campus, and he’s quite sure his heart stopped beating somewhere along the way.  
  
He's holding that girl's face like it's a frail crystal bowl and Seungkwan feels that this can’t be him, that's _not_ Hansol, this is all but a wonderful act to make him lose his freaking mind when he least expects it.

It just _can’t_ be happening, not now that he can still recall the warmth of those kisses imprinted on his skin. He can see that mouth move against red, glossy lips, just as it did on his not even three days ago, and when Hansol parts from them he's smiling to himself, content, licking lipstick away with a low, soundless chuckle.  
  
Then those eyes flick in his direction, even if for just a brief second, and Seungkwan feels fire crackling underneath his skin, in the worst way possible, because Hansol’s been able to sense his presence even from that far away and it’s just not fucking fair to him. 

_Not at all._  
  
Their eyes meet for a fleeting moment, but it’s enough for Seungkwan to burn him to the ground with a homicidal glance before turning in the other direction, feigning disinterest, and walking out of the gate with his hands stuffed in the jeans pockets, like nothing had happened at all.  
  
He’s not sure he has the power to forget something like that. He’s still going to try.

* * *

  
“I can’t even- I swear, calling you two idiots would only be a fucking compliment.”  
  
“Jihoon, can I use your dirtiest socks to stuff Soonyoung’s mouth?”  
  
“If you touch one more thing in this room I’m going to feast on your corpse, I swear,” a low growl rises from beneath the fluffy pillows of Jihoon’s bed, and Seungkwan grunts back with annoyance. “I may have let you in, this time. But you know the rules. Don’t breathe in too much oxygen.”  
  
It’s been two weeks, now, and Seungkwan feels like they were two entire years of his life. He’s not in the mood to admit it, but he definitely missed hanging out on his neighbor’s wooden floor with the usual idiotic dorks sprawled close to him, especially now that everything’s suddenly taken a turn for the worse for him.  
  
“… dirty omega socks? That’s just rude,” Soonyoung rolls his eyes to the ceiling, one mocking scoff already on his arched lips. “I’m simply stating the truth, here, and you’re trying to shut me up. You can’t possibly pretend that the two of you are blissed masterminds, now, can you. At least allow me to point out the despicable truth.”  
  
“It’s not my fault you walked on me attempting to have sex for the very first time, Soonyoung,” his answer’s perfectly cold and collected, even when pure _murder_ ’s glowing in his sharp eyes. “And it’s definitely not my fault _someone_ decided to go back to pussies.”  
  
“… seriously?” Soonyoung frowns. And he laughs, too. “You had like thousands of chances to screw Hansol before, if you only wanted to, just like you have now. The fact that you’re both fucking everything up instead of actually getting down to business – and by business I mean _fucking_ , in case you’ve forgotten or you’re just too damn stupid to get it – is probably the most entertaining thing ever. I mean, yes, please, keep on wasting precious time, keep on dating others instead of tying the knot, keep on pushing and pulling till the end of time, oh, please, keep it up, it makes my day.”  
  
“It’s not my fault that he likes girls better than me.”  
  
“Wow, Seungkwan. Wow. _Wow_.”  
  
“I’m just saying.”  
  
“Wooooow.”

* * *

He feels good enough about it to not make their next Saturday night awkward – which is a huge step for him, since he spent at least fifty hours of the last week daydreaming about the perfect way to crush Hansol’s testicles –.  
  
As a matter of fact, Seungkwan’s able to appear so incredibly comfortable and nonchalant around them that even Chan has the guts to publicly ask if he got laid with some mysterious lady or, well, at least _something_. Seungkwan brushes him off with an embarrassed – homicidal – laugh at first, then he decides to casually and repeatedly kick the boy to put him back to his rightful place and teach him not to ask those kind of questions, and Jihoon doesn’t even interfere when Chan insists the fact that he wants to meet this wonderful lucky girl and Seungkwan opts for castrating him right there and right now.  
  
There’re all there, at Hansol’s apartment, to chill out and forget about troubles like they’ve done countless times for the past few years.  
  
Mingyu’s cooking saves the night as usual, since Jihoon’s too busy trying to refresh himself on the cramped balcony to elude any kind of migraine that Chan and Seokmin might have been trying to give him for the last four uninterrupted hours.

Seungkwan offers to help in the kitchen, only to regret it one minute later as he notices that he can’t really prevent memories from surfacing without his consent. The fact that Hansol’s helping too, shuffling behind him to grab stoves and glasses and set the table, only makes it worse for him to handle.  
  
That night he eats grilled meat while thinking of the velvety sensation of Hansol’s blood in his mouth, and even if he laughs and brightly responds to his friends’ idiotic remarks, he has a hard time looking right into those dark eyes without feeling subtle heat crawling beneath his skin. It’s not his thing, averting gazes and lowering his head into the bowl. He hates it.  
  
He’s the last one to grab his coat and attempt to reach the door when the clock strikes an ungodly hour, and maybe if he speeds up, he can even catch Jihoon on his way back to his house. If he’s not already been stolen by Soonyoung, like every single time.  
  
He’s already on his way out of there when a hand reaches out to grab the back of the collar of his coat, stopping him right in the middle of the doorway, and that’s when he knows he won’t be going home at all, not even if he tries.  
  
“It’s a full moon tonight,” Hansol’s voice sounds complacent and shamelessly alluring at the back of his head, on the exposed skin of his nape.  
  
Seungkwan turns around to flash him his coldest glare.  
  
Smiling back wasn’t part of the plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's really interesting seeing how most of you reacted to the precious chapter, and i hope this chapter was up to expectation as well! most of you were noticed little things that seemed out of place, so i hope this chapter clarified them (heh).
> 
> the story is nearing it's end, so i hope you all anticipate it! the next two chapters will be shorter then usual but will round off the story.


	5. Chapter 5

Pale stars twinkle above their head, fading under the dim urban lights of the city.

It’s cold out there, on the rooftop of the building, even if not a whiff of wind blows on them and the weather’s undoubtedly, slowly getting more and more temperate day after day, turning the wintery frozen air into mild, bearable and somewhat pleasant cool.

Seungkwan licks droplets of beer from his lips. He's kept himself occupied with that can for the last ten minutes, sipping from time to time as he swirled the liquid around.

"… just playing with dominance, I think."

"It's really cute how you still believe that you can dominate me in some sort of way, Hansol," he sneers, can pressed against the lips and eyes raised to the full white moon floating in the sky.

Hansol huffs without care, voice slurred and croaked when he speaks next. "I know I can't," he says, laughing to himself. "Which is why I'm not even interested in pursuing you anymore."

"You're a cocky son of a bitch. And a liar too."

"Oh, you wish."

“… but why girls? I mean… ok, fine. I get it. Don’t need to come after me, if you don’t like me anymore, do whatever the fuck you want. But… girls? This doesn’t even make any sense?”.

“She’s an omega, you know. She smells so good. I’ve jacked off to omegas before, but you…” Hansol takes his time with a soundless laugh “… you’ve always been turned on by other alphas, it’s so obvious. That’s probably one of the reasons why you believed you were an omega in the first place. Am I right, Seungkwan?”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Well it wouldn’t be of any use to me trying to convince you that I’m attracted to girls too.”

“Then why did you beg me to keep your nature secret when you’re clearly ready to flaunt it with your whole fan club by choosing to screw the prettiest omega?” Seungkwan’s frowning deeper, now, as he takes another sip from the can.

“I’m not flaunting it,” Hansol utters in reply. “Believe me, I screwed her, and she didn’t even notice. It’s not difficult masking yourself when you’re not that attracted to somebody and said somebody’s not even that good with her sense of smell. Playing the horny beta role’s a piece of cake. It’s when you’re excruciatingly drawn to your other half that controlling your body becomes a hell of a work. I don’t even think it’s possible, in that case.”

Seungkwan remains silent for a while. Then he starts breathing again. “… how the hell did you not knot her and fuck everything up, then? She’s an omega, you said…” his question’s tentative and unclear, relaxed by the alcohol. “… she’s like… the perfect catch.”

“A fuck out of pity and need of relief doesn’t mean I’m attracted to her enough to bond that way or even risk a pregnancy,” he tosses his empty can behind his back, weak, metallic thumps echoing in the dark, against the cold concrete. “Besides, as long as I don’t think about you while I’m having sex, there’s no danger of screwing things up.”

Something clenches Seungkwan’s chest from deep within, but he doesn’t turn his eyes away from the milky, radiant glow of the moon. He simply scoffs to himself, bitter and tired.

“How many omegas did you fuck?” he asks, disinterested.

“… well… four, back in America,” Hansol replies. “One here in Korea.”

“Only one?” Seungkwan rises an eyebrow with obvious skepticism.

“You asked about the omegas.”

“Oh, wow. What about the betas, then?”

“Uhm… nine. Still when I was back there though.”

“I don’t even want to know about the alphas.”

“I’ve never liked alphas that way,” he scoffs. “To be completely honest, I’ve actually disliked them quite a lot, from that point of view… mostly because they were all territorial assholes when it came down to girlfriends and lovers, and even if they tossed them in and out of bed without care, one after the other, it was always too dangerous trying to fuck someone who had already been marked. But aside from that, they were pretty much all good folks. I can’t say shit about the girls. The few alpha girls I knew had stable relationships, at that time, and I was too busy enjoying my life to care about them. They seemed scary; you know. So bossy and violent. For the longest time, I’ve swore to myself that I would have never looked at another alpha that way.”  
He sighs, this time deeply, with self-deprecating hilarity. “… and look at me now. Fucking hell. I barely step out of my country and the first thing that happens to me is falling in love with the most unreachable alpha ever. An alpha who even believed himself to be an omega because… I don’t fucking know, he was completely brainwashed. An alpha who would rip your throat if you only mentioned sex once. An alpha who’s even a boy, by the way. Oh, the irony.”

Seungkwan manages to kick Hansol’s feet by swinging one over the edge of the railing.   
“Don’t put the blame on me,” he hisses back, venomous. “And don’t lie to me, you fucking bastard. I’m not unreachable. Not anymore, at least. It’s you the one who’s decided that screwing the first available omega around was the easiest way out. You wanted an easy fuck and you got it. Well then. What am I even supposed to say about this? Congratulations on fulfilling your wildest dreams, you asshole.”

Shifting uncomfortably by his side, Hansol chuckles. “You really don’t get it, do you,” his groan sounds tired and stiffen as he lays down on the pavement with both arms crossed behind the head, one last deep sigh towards the night sky above.  
“… you’re so naïve, Seungkwan. And… god, so cute,” he vows. “You never listened to me when I told you that hanging out with me during spring wasn’t a good idea, even when I tried to lock myself up in my own apartment to avoid you and keep as calm as I could. And guess what you did, instead? You not only came here to – I don’t know – talk it out or something, but you even proposed to blow me with that pretty face of yours. During spring. When I was this fucking close to losing my shit and taking you against your will. It was either you or that girl. Or any other girl, to be honest. You cute, cute murderous little thing, you really don’t know a thing, do you. I’m sorry that I decided to screw a random eager omega instead of smashing you against the wall and taking advantage of youyou, if you seriously feel that offended by my actions. You’re really new to this whole alpha thing, aren’t y-”

Hansol’s breath’s cut short by the hand that leans without a sound next to his right cheek, on the concrete underneath him, and for a brief second his eyes flick in doubt and surprise, widening as they rise towards the shadow that’s now eclipsing the frosted light of the moon.

“- what are you doing?”

He’s not even on top of him yet, but Seungkwan shushes him right away.

He never had a chance to see the reverberation of the piercing, vibrant moonlight in Hansol’s blown wide eyes before and he feels his heart stop when the first distant spark of red glimmers into that absolute darkness, sinister flame twinkling from the most hidden depths of his soul.

“… I already told you, long ago…” Seungkwan shifts away from the parapet, crawling slow and tentative over Hansol’s sprawled body so that he can gain the higher ground. His other hand gets rid of the empty can of beer before finding its way on Hansol’s forehead, and he pulls the messed bangs away, threading fingers through silky hair. “… that I was going to break your heart. That doesn’t mean that I’ll allow you to break mine.”

Hansol doesn’t utter a word. He looks up at him, breath caught in his throat, as cold fingertips trace the outline of his nose and then linger on the soft, dry texture of his lips, and Seungkwan plays with them to force his mouth open with a light tug on the bottom lip.

Hansol gasps only when those fingers detach from his skin, lifting away towards the black coat wrapped around Seungkwan’s body. His eyes follow their movements as they begin undoing every single button, from the top to the bottom.

“… what… w-what are you doing?” he repeats, voice now suddenly hoarse, strangled.

“It’s so damn funny hearing you rant about how much I don’t control you, Hansol,” Seungkwan whispers, opening the front of his coat before placing both hands on the other’s jacket and firmly grab its collar to pull down the zip. “When the truth is, I’ve already taken control of your whole soul, just like you did with mine.”

“You’ve mistaken y-”

“Shut the fuck up,” he forces him quiet one more time. “I’m done listening to your crap. I may have been a frigid son of a bitch for the entirety of my life, but I’m not dumb, and I know what I want too. I know what I want now.”

Hansol hisses in discomfort and surprise when Seungkwan’s cold hands press against the soft, warm fabric of his shirt, over his toned chest, but doesn’t attempt to lift even just one finger in order to push him away. He stands there, frozen, looking up at him with mute apprehension.

“Tell me one more time that you’ve given up on me, that you’re no longer trying to pursue me or that you’re getting over what we had after the kiss you stole from me back in the library, and I swear I’m going to make you pay, Hansol.”   
Seungkwan lowers his body, slowly, as his hands descend the curves of that body, nails imprinting invisible paths on the fabric of the shirt. “Because I’m done accepting your idiotic excuses after I’ve already made fucking clear that I’m ready to face what’s going on between us. I’m the one who’s supposed to be the fucking tease, here, not you.”   
His fingers finally find their way over Hansol’s collarbones, up, on the exposed, warm skin of his neck. “… and I swear, you fuck one more girl instead of taking me just the way you like it, and I’m going to make sure you won’t be able to find a single hole to bury your dick in for the rest of your life. Wherever you will go.”

Hansol’s breathing seems erratic. It’s heavier, hotter, and just slightly sketchier.

He can’t talk back, not yet. He’s frowning so deeply, underneath Seungkwan’s thick shadow, that it almost looks like he’s going through real, physical pain, frail, shaken and ready to be crushed.

“Spring’s not over yet,” Seungkwan mutters in an undertone. Something’s clenching his throat from within, and he knows he won’t be able to add much more without hearing his own voice crack in the most embarrassing way. “So… I’m going to tell you how this is going to end, now.”

Hansol’s breath quivers as Seungkwan lays down on him, chest pressed against chest between their open clothes, and cups his jaw with unforgiving strength, too close for his own good – so fucking close.

“You’re either going to push me away in the next few seconds, to make clear that there’s not a chance for us to be together, not once, ever, or you-” and then Seungkwan stops for a second, awkwardly speechless, the same moment he shifts above him to get in a better position and perceives a muffled sob underneath him.   
He rises up again, doubtful and silent, now sat on his friend’s lap with a perplexed frown casted on his face. Then his eyes narrow, and he’s glaring at Hansol like he could reduce him to ashes by setting his whole body on fire. “… really, Hansol? You’re already this hard?” he spits, between cruel amusement and absolute lack of faith.

“It’s not my fucking fault ok-”

“Yeah, right. Of course not. I’m the one who telepathically controls your dick, sure.”

“Look,” Hansol growls, this time, face red as fire under the opalescent moonlight. “You’re not only taking me by surprise, you’re even- I didn’t-” his stuttering’s becoming already unbearably painful and way beyond adorable to hear. Seungkwan has to clench his hand around Hansol’s throat just a little harder to keep still and stop himself from dropping down to kiss his lips. “I just don’t understand how you- ugh-”

“… how I dare be asking you to fuck me?” Seungkwan suggests, thumb stroking lightly Hansol’s chin, as a cunning smirk arches upwards the left corner of his mouth. “Is it really that out of the blue, Han?”

“You’ve always been so damn against physical contact since-”

“Do you even have any idea of how many times I’ve jacked off to you at night?”

“I don’t- what?”

“Why do you think I willingly accepted to suck your dick, that time?” he insists. “Boredom, maybe?”

“But I didn’t-”

“And have you even wondered why I didn’t crush your precious little dick when you kissed me like that in the library? Because I thought there was nothing to think about, but apparently you’re just too damn slow to get what’s beyond obvious.”

“Seungkwan, I really-”

“No, you listen to what I have to say, now,” he cuts him off one last time, hand firmly clenched around the jaw as he leans over for a deep, hard kiss. There’s hunger in the way that Hansol immediately responds to him, and astonishment, and an absolute, complete sense of relief, but Seungkwan lets him get only a brief taste of his lips before moving away, taking a shaken breath in. “… let’s fuck,” he demands.

He doesn’t know what was passing through his mind when he decided to do it out there, in the open, way past midnight and on the rooftop of a building too, just to complicate things a little more since the floor of Hansol’s apartment may have been too damn mainstream for his liking, but Seungkwan still has half of his clothes on and he’s already freezing his ass in the most literal way.

He doesn’t wish for him to go slower. He can’t go any slower than this in the first place, without risking coming in his own unzipped pants, and if there’s one thing that’s driving him beyond insane is the way Hansol’s taking his goddamn time to pull his underwear down while Seungkwan’s already regretting all of his life choices, teeth rattling for the cold and the excitement, crushed between kisses, licks and bites.

Hansol kisses like he’s still trying to control himself and touches him like he’s already done this hundreds of times already, but not without a good amount of uncertainty and apprehension still holding him back, too busy controlling his every touch to just let go and fuck him up once and for all.  
Seungkwan feels like he would be drowning in those kisses if only he wasn’t in such a hurry to get to the main point of the whole deal, and by the time Hansol’s hands have reached inside his pants he’s already feeling cold wind blowing on his naked ass, jeans sliding down to reveal white, warm skin.

“- come on,” he hisses, impatient, as he breaks their kiss to bury his head in Hansol’s perspired neck. “Come on,” he begs one more time, “you’re so goddamn slow.”

“… slow?” Hansol moans in response, pushing back up against his crotch. “We’ve only gotten started and you’re-”

“Don’t take me for one of your pretty little girls who needs time to think about it,” he shuts him up, right hand buried in Hansol’s hair to tug soft locks with all of his strength. He hears him groan in pain, but doesn’t let go. It just makes him want to tug possibly even harder. “You either fuck me now, or I fuck you.”

“You’ve never-”

“Shut the fuck up. You’ve never done it either, like this,” and both of his hands crawl down Hansol’s waist, with no hesitation whatsoever, to clench around his buttoned jeans.   
“Maybe you just want to be treated like a princess for once,” he taunts, slowly sitting back on his lap so that he can get a better view of the mess he’s done of that body. Seungkwan’s sniggering to himself, now, ruffled bangs falling disarranged on his sight, and Hansol’s breath hitches underneath him when he squeezes just a little bit harder, in the right way.   
“Maybe you want to know what it feels like having a dick up your untouched, tight alpha ass,” he suggests, low and cunning, while undoing button after button to let Hansol’s hard cock spring into the cold air of the night and wrap his right hand around it. He licks his lips at that sight. “… maybe you want to know how hard a knot can be. Maybe you want to try it.”

Hansol’s teeth plunge into his bottom lip as he holds his breath. He’s struggling really, really hard to keep still now that Seungkwan’s free to jerk him off as rough as it pleases him.

“… you’re so fucking talkative for being a virgin,” he barely lets out one strangled breath, looking up to him under hooded lids. “So damn talkative-” and he hisses, squirming underneath his touch when Seungkwan rubs his thumb a little too hard on the red tip of his erection. “Y-you don’t even know what’s coming,” is the last chocked warning.

“I don’t see you trying to shut me up in any way,” Seungkwan can feel his mouth watering as Hansol becomes even harder and slicker in the palm of his hand, and possibly unbearably hotter. There’s no way he can go back now, if Hansol doesn’t stop him he’s going to take it in his mouth, there’s no doubt. “So I’m just going to do it my way.”

And just like that, he grabs those unbuttoned jeans to yank them down.

It happens too damn fast.

If there’s one thing Seungkwan was definitely not expecting, that’s the sudden jolt hitting his shoulder with uncontrolled strength, so hard and abrupt he literally collapses down to the side with a surprised gasp, forehead scraping slightly the cold, frozen concrete as he tries to save his head from crashing on it by pushing one arm forward. It’s too late. The thud echoes loud in his ears and for a second everything goes black around him.   
He’s groaning in pain, one soft howl held back in his throat, when hands wrap firmly around his waist to push it upward, back against toned thighs. Hansol doesn’t even ask if he’s hurt, he simply manhandles him on all fours against the floor and Seungkwan knows he’s done. He’s smitten. He’s so fucking in love right now, with the aftertaste of blood spreading in his mouth for a bruised lip and that soft throbbing on his sore right temple, that he has to bite back a whimper to hold on to his dignity.

“… what the fucking fuck-” he growls instead, one hand reaching back to grab Hansol’s wrist in time, before the other can pull down his already lowered jeans and have his way with him.

Hansol’s smashed him on the floor not like a lover, but like an alpha, and Seungkwan’s so turned on he almost feels dizzy.

“Weren’t you the one who was angry at me because I was trying to give you some time?” Hansol’s voice sounds dark, husky, and somewhat sardonic too.

“You fucking hurt me,” he complains, trying to turn around to flash him a homicidal glare.

He doesn’t even have to try, because Hansol’s already grabbing him by the hair to force his head in his direction with a firm yank, one that almost makes Seungkwan roar.

“I’m going to hurt you much much deeper now, Seungkwan,” his breath quivers, shaken, as he pushes against him. “Unless you beg me to stop. You still have some time left if you want out of this, you should-”

“-just fucking take me now,” he cries out, exasperated, eyes shut and pleading when his voice breaks into a sob. “I’m not going to give you many more chances, you know. If you don’t fucking man up for this I’m going to bend you over and fuck you right here, right now, till you’re going to cry, I swear-”

“Shut up,” Hansol whispers into his left ear. He’s pulling his hair from behind before he decides to shove his face down, against the cold floor. “Just- shut up.”

Seungkwan doesn’t expect him to be gentle, not this time. They’re both far beyond cuddles and affections, sweet caresses or deep, soothing kisses. There’s no holding hands, no romantically entwined fingers as they embrace each other, no snuggles or lost gazes full of devotion.   
There are just clothes, too many damn clothes between them to count, and haste, and cold, and still clothes, clothes every fucking where, and Seungkwan even tries to set himself free from Hansol’s grip in order to slip off his own tight, undone jeans, but the more he struggles the harder the other presses him down, without any grace or care.   
He feels so damn frustrated about this situation that he’s going to bark some loud swearing for not being able to move, but in that exact moment Hansol’s fingers slip underneath his already lowered pants, tracing the round curve of his buttocks, and his jaw falls open with a silent gasp.

Maybe… no. Maybe he’s not ready for this. Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe he was right. Maybe-

“I don’t have any lube,” Hansol curses. “Or a condom either.”

“… do I look like I fucking care?” Seungkwan hides his face under his left arm, this time, even if he’s already facing the cold, coarse surface of the rooftop.

“Well you should care, you’re the one with his ass up in the air, now,” Hansol’s hand rises to Seungkwan’s waist, gradually outlining his spine as it slides underneath his big warm sweater. Cold air stings exposed skin, and Seungkwan shivers.

“Are you too used to pussies to do it?” he scoffs one last time, mockingly, in the last few seconds of cockiness left for him, and then his voice snaps underneath the foreign touch of cold – so fucking cold – fingertips pressing to get inside of him. His body almost lurches forward at the sensation, to escape that touch on autopilot, and he knows he’s talked too soon, too damn soon, and way out of his line, because there’s just no way in hell he’ll ever be ready for this.

Hansol’s breath hitches, but he can’t hear it. He doesn’t even ask for permission and Seungkwan’s too busy bearing his teeth in a chocked, restrained sob as two long digits fill him up for the very first time in a way he’s never felt before, cold, rough, deep and unforgiving, to gather the strength needed to curse him. There’s no time for adjustment or regret, Hansol doesn’t allow it.   
One hand presses his chest down to the floor to prevent any sudden movement, any struggle or shudder, the other pushes against his ass. Hansol stretches him so good, so fast and without care, that Seungkwan feels tears blossoming in his eyes in a strange, unbearable mixture of shame, pain and pleasure.

“I’m sorry, I can’t- I can’t slow down,” he cries behind him. “I’m sorry, Seungkwan, I’m so sorry-”

“I don’t-” one low growl, smothered into the sleeve of his coat. He’s going to regret this. “-fucking fuck me-”

And for as long as he might have fought to restrain and control himself, Hansol finally surrenders to his raw instinct. Seungkwan’s sobbing, panting without a sound against damp cloth, when he begins feeling inch after inch of hot, hard dick entering him, stretching him open beyond any expectation, and for a split second the fleeting wish of being born an omega sparks in the back of his mind.   
Yes, damn, it would be so much easier, that way. He would be wet and that cock would feel slicker inside of him, and maybe everything would burn less, without setting his guts on fire. Too bad that he loves it this way and that, when the first thrust rocks his body forward, the pain he’s feeling seems too good to be real.

Hansol’s cussing on his behalf, something loud and breathless along the line of him being too damn tight to move, and Seungkwan would almost turn around to kick him in the balls if only he could rise his face from the frozen floor.

Clothes are still in the way, crumpled between them, but his jeans are the only thing that’s saving his knees from scratching against the uneven, hard concrete that he’s been pressed against. Hansol’s belt scrapes rhythmically his naked skin, rough, cold fabric of the jeans grazing the back of his thighs with every sharp thrust, and Seungkwan tries to squirm away from the cold wind blowing on his exposed stomach as he reaches down for his own dick.

For as much as he had wanted this, he was not prepared. He was not ready, he was not even remotely wet enough and Hansol’s not wearing any kind of protection, which means that when he’s going to come – and Seungkwan’s not sure he’ll be able to pull out in time, judging by the way he’s riding him fast and rough to reach his own climax – everything will be a complete, absolute mess.   
Seungkwan sobs loudly the harder and faster those thrusts become, because he may have begged for this when he had believed that it was going to be nothing but a piece of cake, but he knows, now, what Hansol’s tried to tell him, and whining, cursing or moaning don’t make it any better. He didn’t even know his own ass could take it that deep to begin with, it’s beyond ridiculous. His whole face is burning with a deep rush of arousal, pain and embarrassment, he’s only thankful he can hide it down there, without having to show it.

Hansol grabs the collar of his coat to push him up a little, back against his waist, and prevent him from slipping forward along with those restless thrusts. He fucks him like this is going to be the last time, fast, deep and hard, like he doesn’t even care that the other’s nothing but a virgin, and Seungkwan knows he’s loving it by the sound of those short, shaken breaths. There isn’t even time to care for each other’s needs, so he lets his head loll back down to the cold floor as he begins stroking himself.

“… Hansol,” he calls him one time, just by mistake, voice broken by a high-pitched moan as his dick slides in the clenched palm of his hand, and he can feel him groan even deeper, sweated fingers twitching around his nape.

It’s too fast to last far too long, Seungkwan knows it the moment something begins twisting deep within his stomach, that familiar sense of raw, unmistakable waves of pleasure rising in his guts, and he can feel part of the initial pain subside into something warmer. He can’t tell if it’s the way he’s stroking himself or if it’s thanks to those sharp thrusts that could almost break him in half, but there’s a definite coil of heat spreading between his legs, now, like liquid fire crawling beneath his hypersensitive skin in a rising tide, and his breath hastens with a hiccup.

Hansol must be feeling it too, because soon his hand flashes between Seungkwan’s locks to yank them down, so that he can press him even harder against the floor and reach deeper inside of him.

“-shit,” he barely hears him curse, washed away by the pleasure blooming down below, too busy squeezing his eyes shut and plunging his teeth in the bottom lip to not scream out loud at the sensation of the freezing cold concrete crushed against his chest to even care about what could be happening up there.

Then he begins feeling it. And it hits him, for the very first time.

“… oh, shit,” Hansol moans even harder as what before seemed to be only the rough tip of his cock is now becoming even harder, and possibly bigger. It begins to swell inside him, more and more, from thrust to thrust.

Seungkwan grits his teeth for a couple of seconds while his clouded brain tries to elaborate what’s happening and why something seems to be changing so abruptly, why the hell everything feels suddenly hotter and harder, or why it’s like he’s been stretched even further.   
It’s just a moment, but he even thinks that it might be only his imagination, a trick that his mind’s playing on him since this is his first time. And he really, really tries to endure it. Then those thrusts become unquestionably rougher and erratic, and what was first nothing but a worthless doubt turns out to be the freaking unmistakable truth.

“Hansol-” he lets out a first gasp, as he immediately tries to reach behind him, to place a hand on his thighs in the mute plead to set a slower pace. “Hansol, w-what the fuck- ow-” and whatever he may have tried to say transforms into a first, loud yelp.

He attempts to struggle, to push back and stop him, but his jaw is falling open in a silent scream as Hansol pushes even deeper inside of him, and there’s just no mistake, this time. The swelling is there, deep within him, getting harder and harder as it rubs against his prostate with sharp, restless thrusts. It doesn’t take much longer before the knot feels unbearably huge for his tight virgin ass, making it hard even for Hansol to move, and that’s when Seungkwan loses it once and for all, and just screams.   
He falls down, arms trembling beneath him as he lets out a long, broken cry. And he screams, loud, hurt, and breathless, nails plunging in the cold palm of his left hand. It’s like something’s tearing him apart, and not even Hansol’s apologetic shushes can make him stop crying out for that agonizing, unexpected friction.   
A cascade of swears and “sorry I’m so sorry” raining on him like warm drizzle doesn’t make him feel any better when Hansol’s knot has finally reached its full size, and he can feel his own dick throbbing in his wet, shaken hand, as hard as it’s never been, excruciatingly hot and leaking against the concrete underneath.

A few erratic thrusts later, Seungkwan’s coming with a sob muffled in the crumpled collar of his coat, hit by an orgasm so strong and unexpected it’s damn beyond painful, and Hansol’s chocked gasp is the last thing he hears before something hot and sticky spills inside him, filling him up completely.

He realizes he’s crying only many seconds later, when a pair of strong arms grab his waist to flip him over. Frozen wind blows on his wet cheeks, stinging his eyes, and he whines loudly at the sudden movement that makes his back hit the floor. There are stripes of his own cum on the front of his sweater and there are going to be some on the back of his coat too, now, thanks to that fucking idiot.   
Seungkwan curses again, with a strangled growl, eyes squeezed shut as he feels the knot twist inside of his now oversensitive, sore behind, and if he wasn’t completely wasted by the afterglow of sex he would at least try to lift one arm and smash his fist against Hansol’s jaw. Hard. Good. Just like how he deserves it.   
It’s really sad that he’s too busy sobbing and cussing and trying to catch his breath at the same time, especially when he would love to see the kind of face the other would make if he dared punch him in a moment like this, with Hansol’s dick still fully buried in his ass.

Seungkwan opens his eyes – blurred, watery eyes, lost in the dim light of the moon –, and soft lips crash immediately on his before he has the time to catch his breath. His jeans had never been more in the way now that he can’t move his legs, open them or even simply wrap them around Hansol’s waist to keep him closer. But Hansol doesn’t seem to care. Seungkwan can only see the hazy shade of red glowing above him, burning bright in those dark, glossy eyes, before he half-closes his lids to reciprocate the kiss with a soft moan.

“… so beautiful,” Hansol breathes against his swollen mouth, between pecks and much deeper kisses. “You’re so so damn beautiful, Seungkwan.”

“You’re heavy,” Seungkwan growls in a breathless undertone, while he wriggles to get in a much more comfortable position. If only he could move. “… a-and I’m stuck, shit,” he hisses, tired.

Hansol doesn’t waste much more time before rising up and grabbing his legs to help him out of those tangled jeans, and once he’s done with it Seungkwan’s now completely naked from the waist down, out in the open, in the cold, glacial night, sprawled against the iced pavement of the rooftop. He’s freezing and sweating, the perfect combo for certain death. Hansol doesn’t wait to fall back on top of him either, but this time he makes sure he can feel Seungkwan’s quivering, toned thighs wrap around his waist.

“I can’t believe we’ve really done it,” he snickers softly, nuzzling against the sweated skin of Seungkwan’s neck once he’s managed to tug him into a tight tight embrace. “I can’t- I just can’t.”

A loud scoff leaves Seungkwan’s throat. He’s still breathing too damn heavily, chest rising frantically as he recovers from the climax.

“… I can’t believe you fucking knotted me,” he taunts in reply. “Do you plan on getting out of me any time soon, now, or am I destined to freeze up here with your dick stuck inside me?”

“… you do know how these things work, right?” Hansol rises up a little, only to flash a glance down below, at their entwined bodies. “I… I don’t think we’re going anywhere for the next twenty minutes… or so.”

“Twenty minutes?!” Seungkwan explodes beneath him as he shoves both arms against Hansol’s chest to push him away, stunned and horrified. “A-are you fucking kidding me?!”

Hansol blinks at him in the most innocent way, and his amused smile sets Seungkwan’s cheeks on fire one more time. “Well… it’s called knotting for something, you know. It’s not like I can undo it beforehand,” he replies, as if he was talking about the most logical thing in the world.

“Hansol I’m going to die here if I don’t cover myself up,” and his teeth rattle to underline that pretty damn obvious concept. “You fucking moron- I can’t-”

“I’m keeping you warm.”

“Shut up, it’s not enough!”

“I will keep you warm, Seungkwan,” he repeats, voice suddenly lower and darker, as he slides one hand between their bodies to reach for Seungkwan’s dick.

“I didn’t give you my permission to do this!” Seungkwan shudders immediately for that unexpected touch, slightly arching his back from the floor for the way his still too damn sensitive skin hurts under that first, gentle stroke.

“To do what?”

“-k-knot me, asshole. I wanted to have sex, not this.”

“It’s pretty much the same thing to me. I’ve lost count of the times I told you I was dead serious about you, anyway.”

“This- this is not the point-”

“-or is it?” Hansol huffs lightly, against Seungkwan’s trembling lips.

It’s too fucking much.

“Seungkwan,” he calls him one more time, in a gentle whisper.

“… what,” he growls back at him to conceal a moan, even if he tries to sound as deadly as possible.

“Is it okay if I’m crushing on you, now?”

Fuck.

“… if you weren’t crushing on me already, I would be crushing your fucking balls.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone keep healthy and safe right now. especially for others around you.  
> E hope you enjoyed the conclusion to this fic! I have things to change/edit (since i made some changes midway through) but i hope you enjoyed the ride.
> 
> Asshole Seungkwan will always be my weakness lol, to a dense, but earnest Hansol.


	6. The End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A peak into their friend's minds

“One hundred… and four degrees?”

“Yup,” Soonyoung takes a long sip from his blue straw. “A nice high fever. Basically dead.”

Chan’s left eyebrow shoots up in wonder. “… should we be worried or something?”

“I think I’ll go check on them later, this evening,” Mingyu yawns widely at his bubble tea before plunging his head on the surface of the table. A playful breeze ruffles his hair as he sighs deeply against his left arm. “… even though I’m too busy with finals to stress about dying idiotic friends. Why does it always have to be me.”

“Well, we could send someone else instead, you know,” Chan suggests. “What about Jihoon, for example? We could tell him that his precious and old friend is dying and that he really really needs him now more than ever.”

It’s a bright, sunny day of spring, perfect to rest outside and bask in the warm daylight.

“… Jihoon?” Soonyoung almost snorts out his bubble tea from both of his nostrils. It’s nothing but a fluke that he doesn’t wind up chocking on it when he attempts to reply next, still coughing loudly and frantic. “Jihoon?” he repeats, voice hoarse and strangled. “Are you trying to end Seungkwan? If we send Jihoon there, to that apartment, somebody is definitely going to die.”

“… wasn’t that the plan from the very beginning?” Chan ponders, amused.

Mingyu rises his head from the table only to flash him an unimpressed glance. “Really?” he mutters with resignation. “What is this… am I the only one here who’s seriously worried about the health of those two idiots?”

“It’s called natural selection,” Chan insists as he leans against the back of his chair with the glint of an accomplished smirk already glowing on his arched lips. “Only the best of the pack survives. And trust me on this, neither Hansol nor Seungkwan hyung are on that list. They’ve signed up for death the very first moment they’ve decided to fuck on a rooftop in the middle of the night. We should simply let nature take its course, if you ask me.”

“Wow, you really want to see them dead,” Mingyu’s groaning, now, when he tries to massage his own aching forehead. “Why am I not impressed by this?”

“Because I’m the voice of truth, and you know it,” the other sniggers with pure satisfaction.

Soonyoung’s apparently so busy reading something that lightly buzzed on his phone that he doesn’t even realize Chan’s tilting forward to steal a sip of his precious bubble tea. He scoffs instead, as he grabs it and lifts it in front of his face.  
“Never mind,” he speaks then, “apparently Seungcheol’s already been there to drop off a couple of medications. He’s coming here, now.”

“Too bad,” Chan licks his own lips, lost in thoughts.

“… and he’s asking me why Hansol’s place reeks of aroused, dying alpha.”

“You mean he doesn’t know?” Mingyu’s eyes immediately bulge out in surprise.

“What… Seungcheol?” Chan finally bursts out a loud laugh. “That absolute idiot? Of course he doesn’t know, he’s too far up Jeonghan’s ass to recognize an alpha when he sees one.”

“Well, he says that he has like the weirdest boner right now,” and Soonyoung drops the phone once again, resting it on the white wooden table with a loud snort.  
“And that he might need to get some fresh air. Oh,” a soft chuckle, “and he wants to know if Hansol’s mysterious new girlfriend is the alpha he’s smelling, because apparently her scent is… uhm… too good to be true, he might even try to steal her.”

“Oh my god,” Mingyu groans deeper as he hides behind the palm of his hands.

“Man, I told you,” Chan chews Soonyoung’s straw with an even wider grin. “It’s time. We have to unleash Jihoon.”

-

Thank you for reading and leaving inquisitive comments!


	7. Clarifications

Hello! I'm back, I'm considering writing a concluding chapter, but for now I'd like to say some people took Hansol (who mind you, while it isn't explicitly written, he is a pansexual in this fictional piece of writing) and his sexual encounter with a girl as cheating

They are ADULTS, pursuing their degrees, they had NOT explicitly stated they were in a relationship at this point, in fact when it was bought up Srungkwan had viewed it with disgust, being in a relationship to Hansol. Hansol, is an independent human, not in a relationship, who did what he had to do to quickly end his rut.

Thank you so much for reading!

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